Moonbreeze (a Lord of the Rings story)
by InariKiri
Summary: Ithilae is never alone. Her ancestor, an elf known by many is haunting her with his presence, always by her side because of the guilt he carries. This elleth is bound to the One Ring by past and future and once it surfaces again after many years, she has had enough; she sets herself up to be apart of its destruction. (Legolas/OC)
1. Chapter 1

**This is a new Lord of the Rings story that I started writing a while back. It's slow going, since I demand more from myself than last time. I hope it is to your liking, because I mashed some Shadow of Mordor into this.**

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The moss gives off a calming fresh scent. The rain has only just ceased and the sky has cleared to give a full view of the waning moon. It is slightly windy, causing the large leaves of the young Mallorn trees to rustle loudly as they dance in the wind.

Between the rocking and groaning trees, a pale figure stands, waiting quietly. Their hair dances along with the leaves, but other than that, they remain motionless.

It is not before the sound of hoof falls reaches their keen ears that they move at all, looking up to see into the distance to behold a dark horse fast approaching. It goes nearly unseen in the pitch-blackness of its surroundings.

It is carrying a tall rider, but it isn't until they came closer, that the pale figure can distinct another smaller figure seated before the rider, wrapped up tightly in a dark cloak.

As the rider comes to a halt, the pale-one steps out from the tree line and into the moonlight to reveal a woman of significant beauty. Her long blonde hair catches the moonlight, making it shine eerily. Her night blue colored eyes seem to be full of stars while they look worriedly towards the small figure in front of the rider.

"Na he negr? _(Is she hurt?)_ " the woman asks while she watches the figure closely as they are taken down from the horse by the rider.

"Baw nin híril. _(No, my Lady.)_ " they reply as they set the figure down on their small feel. Their legs seem to tremble from weariness and fear.

The woman crouches down before them and reaches out to unveil the cloaked face. A pale girlish face is revealed. Her rosy cheeks covered in shed tears as they continue to fall from the round crystalline blue eyes. "Ceri ú nifred. _(Do not fear.)_ " the woman tells the youngling before her in a comforting manner. "Im nidh deli cin eithel. _(I intend to hide you well.)_ "

The woman looks to her new ward in surprise when the child unfolds herself from her large cloak and holds out her hand, holding out something within her small curled fingers.

Curious, the lady holds out her hand to receive whatever it may be that this child holds. She can't help but gasp as the child lays a ring in her delicate hand. "O adar. _(From father)_ " the girl hiccups.

The lady looks at the delicate ring in her hand carefully, sensing the power held by it. It is most precious, with its stone shining like a star as it is held with its Mithril grasp.

"Hen est na Nenya. _(Her name is Nenya.)_ " the girl reveals as the lady slides the ring carefully on her finger, eyes wide in awe.

…..

Many eyes are on Arwen Undomiel as she dashes into Imladris on her light mare. Her stormy grey blue eyes are large in fright, afraid for the live of which she has been entrusted to carry to safety. Because she is not alone; she carries with her on her horse the figure of one of the smaller folk of Middle-Earth; a Hobbit. He looks to be in ill health and must be close to death, judged by the lack of color in his face and the pained look he carries.

Calling for her father, her voice resonating through the halls; Lord Elrond is quick to greet her and takes the young hobbit from his daughter before hurrying to the House of healing, where he will without a doubt use all his resources to make sure that his patient doesn't succumb to his injury. It is this hobbit's only chance of survival.

Now alone, Arwen hangs tightly unto her horse, completely out of breath from her ordeal. It took a great deal out of her to rid the both of them from those deadly horsemen. She knows they are likely to return, but for now she's home, safe and has accomplished her goal.

Once she has calmed down, she senses a particular pair of eyes on her. The feeling makes her spine tingle uncomfortably and thus, she turns to face whoever stares at her so boldly.

Her eyes lock with a pair of sharp grey ones, making her almost step back at the intensity of them. Even from her place in the courtyard, Arwen can still clearly distinct the elleth watching her person carefully from all the way by the guest quarters. Hidden away in one of the rooms.

Those eyes make Arwen's heart feel so heavy that she has to look away before she is sucked into them and drowns in the pain that lies behind them. When she dares to glance towards the elleth once more, she is no longer in sight. Sucking in a final deep shaky breath, Arwen shakes herself of the feeling before briskly walking her sweating horse to the stables.

…..

"Ennas ha na. _(There it is.)_ " a voice whispers through the still autumn air. It is so quiet, it could be mistaken for a gust of wind, but there is no wind today and the only one there to acknowledge it, is already very familiar with this disembodied voice. She knows very well the source of it.

"Yallume. _(At last.)_ " she sighs, leaning heavily against the wall. "Soon it begins."

…..

Someone is moving through the room, Frodo can hear them. If only he could have the strength to open his eyes so he can properly face the one who he can feel has their eyes trained onto him. But it is so hard for him to do, so hard to focus on one task… Why is it so hot? He is feeling so hot. Smoldering like he is being incinerated by dragon flame.

A sigh of relief escapes him as the heat is replaced by a cool touch on his head. It warms gradually as he radiates heat, but still… Even a little relief is welcome. It gives him some strength.

His lashes part only slightly, but it's enough to see the outlines of a figure hovering over him. They halt their movements once they notice eyes are staring back at them.

"Sleep youngling. It will do you good." an airy voice soothes him like a cool summer's evening breeze. It's impossible for his weakened mind to resist and he soon is back into the world of dreams, though now, they seem a little more peaceful.

…..

She closes the door quietly behind her, leaving the patient to his rest, only to turn around and come face to face with an amused looking wizard. He leans on his staff tiredly though looks pretty well mended, considering the state he arrived in. She remembers the tattered clothes and deep bruises well.

"Good evening." he tries casually, only for her to narrow her sharp eyes and tilt her head lightly. Gandalf can't help but comparing her to an owl; assessing whether a prey is worth having a go at.

"Mithrandir." she states quietly before trying to dodge him. He however was already anticipating her move and quickly falls into step with her.

After a minute of walking around aimlessly in an effort to lose the old wizard, she finally grinds to a halt at a casual pronounced: "Nice evening is it not?"

"What is it you want?" she asks, her tone leaving no guessing that she is annoyed.

"What I want? Were we not simply having a stroll?" he asks innocently, vexing her further.

"You know we were not. You are following me. Now state you business with me Gandalf, and hurry. I do not like to be toyed with." she warns him. It seems to have an effect as his face grows severe.

"What are you doing here Ithilae? Last time we spoke you were trying to keep away from it as far a physically possible, quite happy that it's location was unknown. Now, I find you nearly on top of it." he states, eying her carefully.

"You know why Gandalf. Do not ask the obvious questions." she simply states in reply.

"You have finally had enough?" he more states than asks, making her look him in the eye, a crystal blue clashing with blue-grey.

"Sometimes…" she starts, her jaw clenching and her forehead creasing. "Sometimes I feel like an outcast of my own mind. He seems to occupy more of it than myself."

Gandalf sighs sympathetically, earning a glare. He cares none however. "You hate him for it?" he questions, driving to the core of the problem this time.

"At times I think I do." she breathes, casting her eyes downward in shame. "But then he saves my life…again, and I grow uncertain on what to feel."

"It is nothing odd to be wanting control of yourself. He knows this and wishes this for you as well." the wizard consoles.

"But not before fulfilling his own selfish wishes." Ithilae nearly snarls.

"You don't mean that." he tuts, only for her to huff.

"He drove my mother to madness and now he haunts me until he gets what he wants. If only he could see him. But he won't show himself unless he wishes. He can only imagine the pained face he must carry at the tongue lashes of his own descendant.

Gandalf pretends to yawn in order to give himself an excuse to make a hasty departure. "I'll leave you to yourselves." he mutters before doing just that.

He doesn't even think she noticed his absence as she starts a heated discussion with what seems the air itself. Anyone who doesn't know of her situation would think the elven maiden a bit mad if they should see her now.

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 **Please let me know your thoughts.**


	2. Chapter 2

It takes some days for the hobbit to recover enough for him to find the strength to open his eyes. And within these days, others arrived; three more Hobbits and with them a man of great decent.

As the first hobbit's strength grows, they reunite with their former companion and are able to enjoy the riches the Last Homely Home holds. For a moment, they are able to forget the fears they encountered on their way to this peaceful settlement. They were left unaware of the plans that were made by their host.

"They should arrive any day now." Lord Elrond speaks, his voice echoing through his study.

Ithilae scowls. She made it clear before that she did not entertain positive feelings of summoning a company that will be present for a council, one to discuss the faith of the One Ring. Strategically speaking, the less people know of it, the better. But the Elf Lord and Gandalf insisted that the other peoples of Middle-Earth have just as much say on its future as them. It is safe to say that she was outnumbered.

"I shall pass this by Frodo once they have. He shall be present." Gandalf states, puffing on his pipe in leisure. His eyes however betray that he is deep in thought, plotting the future.

"I still feel like you should take it off of him, before he grows too attached to it, or it to him." Ithilae huffs, gazing outside with narrowed eyes.

"And leave it where? Will you carry it?" Gandalf nearly scoffs.

Ithilae bristles at the suggestion. "It might be your best bet! It is not fair to the youngling to subject him to such a burden for so long. You know it will try to destroy him!" she counters rather haughtily.

Gandalf sighs and pauses his smoking, his face placid for a moment. He does feel guilty to have Frodo carry the ring, for every second of it, but it is unwise to let it pass through more hands before they reach a decision. And besides…. "He is remarkably resilient, you might not prove to be." he tells Ithilae.

She scrunches up her nose, readying herself to rebuke his words, but is cut off by another voice hissing through the air: "Dár. _(Stop.)_ Do not be arrogant child." speaks the one appearing next to her out of thin air.

Ithilae glares at the white translucent figure, but stays silent. "If you were to carry that ring, he would finds us, and use us. We have managed to elude him for this long, do not let the effort go to waste." he continues before turning to the other two present in the room.

"We will do whatever is necessary. Whatever will be decided on in the council, we will see it through. Hopefully, it will give the both of us the peace we need." he vows.

Lord Elrond nods in appreciation. "Hannon Ile. _(Thank you.)_ We hope for the same result Celebrimbor."

"All I hope for is the Dark Lord's end; he who summoned you to return from the dead and cursed my very existence, grandfather." Ithilae mutters darkly, eyes on the elf that is has been caught between the death and living for many ages. He has been left a Wraith.

Celebrimbor narrows his eyes at the woman. Her snide words make him feel unwanted, but that is nothing new to him, but the sting of them is ever present. Despite that, he too craves for the end of the Dark Lord. Revenge has long been on his mind.

After a moment of tense glaring, Ithilae steps away from the window and makes for the door. "Where are you planning on going?" her grandfather asks her, recognizing the brisk stride of the elleth.

"Hunting!" she states. "Do not worry, we will return on time." she spits as an after thought, making the Elven Wraith sigh in distain before disappearing. He knows when it is useful to argue and when it isn't.

Ithilae returns to her room and takes on her gear, ready to find a prey and release some of her frustration. She will not spend her anger on some poor animal though. She plans to find some unfortunate Orcs.

"Randir!" _(Wanderer!)_ she calls once outside, making a pale palomino steed raise his head in the distance before he come trotting towards his master obediently. He has already been saddled as she requested him to be readied before meeting with Lord Elrond and Gandalf.

"Come friend. Let us spend our day on the planes and empty our heads while relieving the enemy of theirs." she tells the beast as she mounts him before spurring him into a quick gallop, steering him out of Imladris, her platinum blonde hair whipping behind her.

Not long after, a few Orc scouts dash across the planes as if death is chasing them. It very well might be so.

Ithilae halts her horse on top of a slope, watching them run for a moment before slinging her bow off her shoulder and whipping out an arrow. She knocks it before taking aim. The string of her bow creaks in protest as she pulls it back, resting her hand by her jaw.

Releasing the tension in her fingers, the first arrow is send flying, effectively piercing the base of the neck of one of the Orcs, making it keel over, dead. It spurs its comrades to run harder.

Ithilae repeats the motion twice before all three of them lie for the crows to pick them clean. She nods satisfied, seeing the distance her arrows flew. "Might be a new record Randir." she tells the horse who snorts in reply before swiveling his ears back when a sound catching his attention.

Ithilae looks back to see a group of unknown Elves ride in the direction of Imladris about a mile away. She is quick to deduct that they must be here for the council. She looks away uncaringly as they pass by her, some glancing her way.

The council… Why must they go trough such politics? Her mind goes back to the discussion she had earlier with the Elven Lord and wizard.

She didn't really mean it when she suggested she'd take the ring and take care of it herself. That was just her temper speaking. To be honest, she's not sure if she could do it.

Celebrimbor is right; it will draw attention to them that she'd rather not have on them. Once found out by Sauron, working her way to Mordor would be like swimming upstream in a rapid river while boulders and tree logs are being carried along with it. She would be washed away most probably.

She wishes she could go and destroy it, she wants it to be destroyed so badly, but at the same time, that tiny magical piece of jewelry scares her beyond anything. And not just her; her grandfather as well. It is partly responsibly for the death of his beloved wife and he told her he does not wish for his family to be subjected to the wrath of Sauron any more, numerous times. Hence the hiding from his prying eye.

Ithilae herself is more afraid of it getting a hold of her mind and drive her to madness. She's already not the most mentally stable due to having to share her mind with someone else who has the cunning ability to butt in on her life at any time of the day, let alone have an inanimate object messing around with her mind as well…

Maybe… maybe this council will produce a solution. Perhaps she should see what comes of it after all. What other choice does she have?

Ithilae roams the plains until dusk, watching people come and go in the distance on occasion, before she returns to Imladris in a leisure pace.

She places her horse in the stables for the night, making sure he is comfortable before starting on her way to her room. She is slightly startled however when a small figure runs right into her.

She blinks down at the familiar dark haired hobbit curiously. Hobbit's feet are surprisingly silent despite their size. She never heard him coming.

"Oh, my apologies my lady." he quickly says, blushing in embarrassment.

"Don't mind it." she finally tells him after staring at him a bit longer, making him visibly uncomfortable.

His eyes widen slightly and his mouth opens and closes a few times before he stammers, "Your voice… Have we met before my lady?" he questions, recognizing it from somewhere.

Ithilae knows of what he speaks. He must have been more aware while he was sick than she thought.

"No, we have not. Not formally." she reveals plainly.

He surprises her when he suddenly smiles. "You were there, when I was sick! I felt your hand on my head…" he says before blushing slightly at his own forwardness. "It…it was quite soothing. Thank you." he finishes, his voice lowering to a near whisper, his eyes on the ground.

Ithilae looks down upon him for a moment longer, not sure how to react. "Hmm." she finally hums before turning and walking past him.

She glances back at him as she notices him following behind her silently. He startles as he finds her gaze on him. "S-sorry. I've gotten a bit lost." he excuses. He hopes that if he follows after her, he will find someplace more familiar.

Ithilae lets him follow her for a bit longer before coming to a halt. "I believe your friends are in that hall." she tells him, pointing towards an entrance from which she hears voices.

Frodo looks where she is pointing before turning back to the elleth who has already started to part from him. "Thank you again!" he calls after her before rushing towards the hall and indeed finding his companions gathered there.

As he joins them, he can't help but think back on the woman. There is just something about her. She may act indifferent, but he can tell that she is feeling far from it. Her tone when she first spoke to him while caring for him told him so. He wonders if they will meet again. Next time, he will be sure to ask for her name.


	3. Chapter 3

Everyone has arrived and is filing into the plaza where the council is to be held. The different species eye each other with curiosity and some with a bit disdain as they take their seats.

Frodo shrinks in his seat, feeling out of place, but is slightly comforted by Gandalf's presence next to him. Strider is also present and the man nods encouragingly to him.

Nearly all the seats are filled when another familiar face appears. The elleth steps briskly past the men, taking long strides in her boots, completely ignoring them as some quickly jump to their feet in an effort to be polite as a woman steps in their midst. Their eyes show their confusion as she quickly sits herself down on Gandalf's other side.

The wizard throws her a knowing smile, which she pointedly ignores as well. She cannot however ignore him when he speaks quietly to her, "Good to see you have decided to join us. I was almost afraid you wouldn't come."

She casts her piercing eyes on him, not looking very amused. "You don't have to appear so smug about it Mithrandir. _He_ wouldn't let me miss it if I wanted to." she rebuked, making Gandalf nod in understanding, but confusing the hobbit.

"Milady." Strider's voice cuts in before tossing something towards the elleth, who catches it without effort. "I was just at the forger, thought I would bring it with me while I was at it." he tells before leaning back again.

She opens her hand to find a new buckle. Yesterday, it snapped off her saddle from wear and tear and she commissioned a new one to be made. She nods towards the man in thanks before stuffing it in a pocket. She then crosses her long legs before turning her attention towards Lord Elrond as he takes his seat.

He looks around the folk before speaking up, "Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom."

His gaze then befalls on the single hobbit among them. "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo." he motions towards the pedestal in the center.

Frodo slowly gets to his feet, feeling many eyes on him. He places down the Ring for all to see before quickly returning to his seat, looking visibly relieved to have distanced himself from the cursed thing.

"So it's true." one man speaks up after having gathered himself from the shock of actually seeing the Ring in person.

He stands, looking around at company before looking to the golden band on the pedestal, slowly approaching it. "In a dream I saw the Eastern sky grow dark. In the West a pale light lingered. A voice was crying; your doom is near at hand Isildur's bane is found…. Isildur's Bane…." he finishes in a mutter as his hand rises to reach for the Ring.

"Boromir!" Lord Elrond's voice cuts in sternly, in an attempt of snapping the man out of his trance.

It is then that Gandalf jumps to his feet. "Ash nazg durbatulk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul." ( _One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them)_ he speaks darkly, making several flinch at the dark speech and clutch at their heads in discomfort. Boromir has stumbled back to his seat in shock. The very sky has darkened at those words.

Ithilae narrows her eyes at the speech. She is, for better or worse, well practiced in the speech. It does not affect her so much as the others, but her hatred for Orcs does rise to the surface.

As the clouds dissipate and the sun filters through the leaves again, the company has gathered back their wits, more or less.

"Never before has anyone uttered words of that tongue here in Imladris." Elrond tells Gandalf accusingly.

"I do not ask your pardon Master Elrond for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West." Gandalf reminds all those present of the severity of this gathering. "The Ring is altogether evil." he says calmly before returning to his seat.

"Aye it is a gift!" Boromir states, his eyes large with passion as he stands up once more. "A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring?" he questions, looking to everyone. "Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the _blood_ of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy, let us use it against him." he says, trying hard to convince everyone of that being the right choice.

Ithilae sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose in annoyance. She feared as such. She will not agree to such a plan. The race of Men is too easily swayed by the powers of the Ring. Only despair will come of it before the Ring finds its way back to Sauron's clutches.

"You cannot wield it. None of us can." Strider speaks up before she can. "The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

"And what would a ranger know of this matter?" Boromir turns to him scathingly.

Suddenly an Elf stands, cutting in after having been silent for the entire time. Ithilae recognizes him faintly from being apart of the group of Elves that arrived on 'hunting day'. "This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance." he reveals.

Boromir gazes upon the dark haired man before him in shock. "Aragorn! This… is Isildur's heir?" he questions.

"And heir to the throne of Gondor." the elf adds.

Strider, or Aragorn holds up his hand to the elf. "Havo dad, Legolas ( _Sit down, Legolas_.)" he urges calmly.

Boromir's eyes harden. "Gondor has no King. Gondor needs no King." he says disdainfully as he slowly sits back down as well.

"Aragorn is right. We cannot use it." Gandalf puts in.

"You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed." Lord Elrond tells them seriously. Pressing that it really is the only option.

After a moment a red haired Dwarf speaks up, "Then what are we waiting for?" he questions before springing to his feet. Before anyone can stop him, he swings his axe down upon the Ring. It shatters and Ithilae's eyes widen as the golden band tumbles off of its pedestal, bouncing on the stone floor a few times, towards her.


	4. Chapter 4

Automatically, Ithilae places her foot on the Ring as it stops bouncing and rolls in her direction, taunting her. She nearly growls at having come in contact with the cursed thing. She can hear silent whispers starting to crowd her mind.

Everyone is silent for a moment, watching carefully as she lifts her foot off of the Ring before bending forward and clasping her fingers around the cold metal. Her features scrunch up in a sneer as she rises to her feet, ignoring Gandalf as he shifts to the edge of his seat.

"Ithilae…" she hears him whisper her name in concern.

She steps up to the pedestal and reaches out to place the thing back to its previous position before noticing her hand, or rather, her grandfather's. Hers has been replaced by his in order to shield her from the effect of the Ring. The eerie white hand of Celebrimbor releases the Ring, letting it drop like a stone. Her mind immediately quiets down.

Ithilae quickly lowers her hand as her grandfather's fades from sight and looks around those present defiantly, daring them to speak. None do, too shocked to speak. Some even look at her fearfully, while other look more intrigued. She slowly turns her back to them before returning quietly to her seat.

"Are you alright, my daughter's daughter?" Celebrimbor questions, only for her to hear. She gives a silent nod in reply, though her posture is tense.

Lord Elrond steps forth finally, having shot to his feet before. "The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you… must do this." he reveals.

Boromir is the first to speak once again, "One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep and the great eye is ever watchful. 'Tis a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly." he states, shaking his head.

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed." Legolas exclaims, springing to his feet.

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" Gimli nearly spits, making Legolas look back at him as if saying; 'I said no such thing.'

"And if we fail, what then?" Boromir question legitimately, fearful at the idea. "What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!" Gimli exclaims, his eyes shining with a fire in them. He seems to have forgotten that just a moment ago, an elleth held it.

That last comment has sent every other Elf but Ithilae on their feet and into a heated argument with the Dwarves. The other men are quick to join in also and chaos ensues. The only ones still seated in silence are the elleth and hobbit.

Said hobbit glances at the woman who rubs her pounding head. She catching him looking and their gazes meet for a second before turning back to the argument before them.

"Their like roosters, trying to see who will crow loudest. At times like these I'm glad to carry the sensibility of a woman." Ithilae speaks up to him, surprising him at her vague sense of humor, at a time like this.

"This will get us nowhere. How do we stop them?" he asks her, looking very bothered by the arguing. Ithilae shrugs in response.

Sighing, his eyes return to the Ring. This is what is causing them to act like thus. While they should be united in a common cause, they instead fight. His face scrunches up in thought. He wished to go home, but if this matter doesn't resolve itself, then soon there will be no home for him, not for anyone.

Hearing the dark whispers of the Ring in his head he slowly gets to his feet, aware of the elleth's eyes on him.

"I will take it." he speaks up, but not loud enough for all to hear over the arguing. He glances at Ithilae quickly, seeing her saddened eyes on him. Somehow, her pity only urges him on. He tries again; "I will take it!"

They seem to have heard, because everyone falls silent and turns to him, putting him on the spot. "I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though… I do not know the way." he admits uncertainly.

Gandalf gazes at him, his eyes mirroring the elleth's before closing for a moment in resignation. "I will help you bear this burden Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear." he tells the hobbit as he steps up to stand behind him in support.

"If by my life or death I can protect you, I will." Aragorn is next to speak up, joining the wizard and hobbit. "You have my sword." he vows.

"And you have my bow." Legolas adds quickly. There are no reservations in his eyes about the matter.

"And my axe." Gimli states, not about to be outdone by an Elf.

Boromir nods finally. "You carry the fate of us all little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done." he says kindly, joining the group.

Lord Elrond's eyes turn to the silent woman who is biting her thumbnail. She raises a brow before sighing. "It speaks for itself that I will join you youngling." she tells the hobbit, making him smile slightly. Gandalf nods in satisfaction.

Gimli raises a brow. "A-are you sure about this lass? Perhaps this is more of a task for men?" he suggest hesitantly. He is a little unsure about her after earlier happenings. He's not the only one. Only Frodo, Gandalf and Aragorn seem unconcerned.

"You question my abilities Dwarf?" she counters, making him stammer as her eyes lock on his short form.

Before he can speak, a form dashes from the brush. "Mr Frodo's not going anywhere without me!" a young dirty blonde hobbit calls out, moving to stand beside Frodo who looks back at him gratefully.

"No indeed. It is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not!" Elrond says indignantly.

At this, two more figures dart from the bushes. "Wait! We're coming too!" one calls.

"You'd have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us." the blonde states resolutely.

"Anyway you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission…quest…thing." the one with darker hair stammers, looking quite smug. It causes for a lot of raised eyebrows.

"Well that rules you out Pip." the blonde says to his friend exasperated.

Elrond looks over the motley crew before him. "Ten companions... So be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!" he declares.

"Great! Where are we going?" the rather clueless hobbit questions innocently.

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 **Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

Ithilae stands beside Randir, repairing his saddle. He quietly watches her, only from time to time trying to nip at her fingers for attention until she playfully warned him of sowing his lips to the leather as she was stitching it to fit the buckle. That got him to stop quite effectively. She almost felt sorry for the horse, but she needs to finish this work.

While she was busy, she was joined in the stables by Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood so she learned. He greeted her pleasantly enough, but kept his distance otherwise, occupying himself with his horse, but she could see the questions in his eyes.

The silence was only broken when also Boromir arrived at the stables after seeing his men, who joined him to Imladris, off.

It took him a moment, but finally he just spits out the question that was on his mind, and perhaps others as well; "Are you per chance…an Elf-witch?" he questions as he tries to appear more occupied with petting his horse than interested in hearing the answer to his question.

Ithilae raises a brow indignantly. "No. You have some nerve asking me such a question." she huffs.

"You can't blame me for asking my lady. After the feat you pulled… So what are you then?" he continues to ask.

Ithilae is in no mood to tell him, a stranger, anything about her. "What does it matter what I am? I'm your ally. Is that not enough for you?" she asks in return, rather annoyed.

Boromir frowns slightly, facing her now. Legolas glances over the back of his horse worriedly. Wondering if he should step in at some point.

"I'm sorry if my questions bother you, but if we are to travel together, how can any of us put trust in you if you are keeping secrets about yourself." Boromir states, not unreasonably, but he is pushing it what her privacy concerns.

Ithilae interrupts her work for a moment to look at the man pointedly. "Your mind could not even begin to grasp at my secrets." she tells him.

"So you do have them?" he nods at her.

"Of course I have. But that doesn't mean I'm willing to share them with you. Now will you cease trying to lay them bare? It's pointless." she tells him, her patience growing very thin.

Seeing her knuckles turning white as she fists the hand not resting on the saddle, Boromir frowns, clenching his jaw. "Suit yourself. Good day." he greets rather coldly before stalking out of the stables.

After a moment, Ithilae is about to return to her work, her face slightly red still in anger, when she catches the Elf Prince still staring at her. She narrows her eyes on him, daring him to start, but he only looks away unconcerned.

"Aragorn seems to trust you. For now, that is good enough for me." he tells her, not glancing up at her.

She nods silently in gratitude even though he cannot see it; happy that he will not be pestering her for answers.

Finishing her work, she places it on Randir's back. "Gwaem." _(Let's go.)_ she tells the beast, leading it out of the stables, making Legolas look up at her in question.

"You are leaving unarmed?" he asks.

Ithilae glances back at him for a mere moment. "I'm never unarmed." she states before mounting her steed and darting off. Legolas steps out of the stables to watch her speed off like the wind.

"She is a curious character." he states as Aragorn appears beside him, following his gaze.

"Indeed." he nods in agreement.

"I suppose you could not give me a hint on her story? She does not like to be asked apparently." Legolas says, turning to his friend while remembering the near fallout she had with Boromir.

Aragorn shakes his head slowly. "It is not my story to tell. But believe me when I tell you that she has much to gain by the destruction of the Ring and the defeat of Sauron. I'm glad to have her join us. Her aid will prove indispensable."

Legolas mulls it over. "I trust your judgement of course, but she holds much anger." he notes.

Aragorn chuckles bitterly. "Well, she doesn't have much to be happy about." he states before changing the subject, much to the curious elf's dismay. "Will you join us at the table my friend?" he asks.

Legolas nods, smiling. "Of course."

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Gandalf finds himself very much amused. Because over the past few days, despite Ithilae's efforts in trying to avoid all kinds of socialization, she often seems to find herself the main interest of the Small Folk.

The hobbits seem to gravitate towards her for some reason. It started with Frodo, who has, for reasons unknown to him, made it his personal mission to befriend the elleth.

Observing his efforts, Pippin started to try and lure her out of her shell, quickly followed by Merry after he threw away his reservations. Lastly, Sam felt he could not be left behind and although a little wary of the woman, he starts to see something in her as well.

She doesn't chase them away, but neither does she encourage them to provide her with company. Whatever it is that attracts them to her, it is amusing to see four Hobbits following after the straight-faced elleth.

Something tells the wizard that they will continue to hold a connection, even after many years to pass, should they all make it through what is to come.

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 **Please review. It motivates me to write more.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Whoo! I finally got some reviews! Thanks people!**

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The time of departure has come. Every member of the fellowship is gathered at the entrance of the peaceful realm of Imladris. Soon they will leave behind the comforts of the realm of Elves and step out into the wild to carry out their deadly mission.

Ithilae stands among them, though a bit off to the side, dressed in clothes fit for long travels. Her bow is on her shoulder and her quiver is full. There is one sword strapped to her hip.

Many have gathered to see them off and it is Lord Elrond who speaks the words of parting; "The Ringbearer is setting out on the quest of Mount Doom and you who travel with him, no oath nor bond is laid to go further than you will." he reminds them all.

"Farewell. Hold to your purpose and may the blessings of Elves, and Men, and all free folk go with you." he speaks as his eyes run over each member. He holds out his hand in farewell.

"The Fellowship awaits the Ringbearer." Gandalf says, motioning for Frodo to start leading the way when he is ready.

Frodo takes in the sights around him one last time before turning and setting off on the long journey to come. Those who have decided to join him, follow silently after him, both excited for the wait is over, and with a hint of sorrow, for they do not know when and if they will ever come to see their homes again.

Frodo looks a bit unsure as they pass the gate. The road splits and he does not quite know which path to take. "Mordor, Gandalf, is it left or right?" he asks quietly, afraid he will make a fool out of himself if he chooses the wrong one.

"Left." is his answer, as Gandalf puts a hand to his shoulder in a sign of comfort. Frodo turns left and the first steps are made on a long journey to come.

The first days pass rather quickly as they travel South alongside the Misty mountains. The energy in their minds and bodies is still high and they take the time to wonder at the their environment as they pass mountain, ruin and hill.

On a particular uneventful day, Gandalf allows them to rest. They settle down between a group of rocks and thorny brushes and Sam is quick to get a fire going, having appointed himself to the group's personal chef. He is quite versatile with the few things they carry and are able to hunt.

He smiles up at Ithilae in gratitude as she throws a pheasant at his feet. It's well fed. He quickly plucks the bird, happy with the prize.

Legolas glances at it, seemingly uninterested, but after seeing how far Ithilae could shoot and her observing his skill when it was his turn to hunt, they've started having a wordless contest. Ithilae shot the pheasant on purpose while there were several guinea fowls lingering closer by. It was the hardest target to shoot.

Meanwhile, the elleth settles on a rock, overlooking the encampment. Since the start of their journey she is often found excluding herself and taking up the rear. Though some find her gaze at their back unnerving, others are quite happy with the arrangement, trustful of her.

Everyone is settling down to do their own thing before having a meal. Quickly tiring of sitting still and being full of energy, Merry and Pippin bug their companions to show them the use of their tiny swords until eventually Boromir gives in, setting them up for a lesson.

Gandalf, Aragorn and Gimli as well settle down with their pipes, content for the moment as they watch. Legolas is leaning close by against one of the rocks that has warmed in the sunlight, gazing over the plains, ever vigil of his surroundings. Sam is busy cooking and Frodo has decided to sit quietly near Ithilae, just looking at his friends practice with amusement. The elleth is only quietly observing the bigger picture.

Sam passes along some sausages to Frodo, who takes them absentmindedly, making Sam glance at the sparring hobbits as well.

"Good, very good." Boromir compliments Pippin as he parries his sword.

Aragorn pulls his pipe from his mouth for a second, "Move your feet." he advises.

Merry stands aside for a moment, observing. "You look good Pippin." he nods, impressed by his friend, making him throw back a 'thank you'.

"If anyone was to ask for my opinion, which I note that they're not, I'd say that we were taking the long way round. Gandalf, we could pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome." Gimli notes, turning to the wizard. Ithilae can't help but glance at Gandalf, gauging his reaction.

Gandalf keeps on puffing on his pipe, staring into the distance. "No Gimli, I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice." he says, leaving no room for arguments.

Movement from their left makes his and Ithilae's eyes turn to Legolas as he suddenly bounds up a rock, his eyes straining onto something in the distance. They follow his line of sight, not distracted when Boromir accidently cuts Pippins hands, making him and Merry pounce on him in retaliation. Aragorn soon gets thrown into the mess when he tries to come to Boromir's rescue.

Ithilae rises to her feet, making Frodo glance up as well, growing worried when her face portrays an onset of something dark.

"What is that?" Sam questions, also now noticing something approaching from the sky.

Gimli takes an uninterested glance towards it, "Nothing, its just a whisp of cloud." he waves off.

"It's moving fast... against the wind." Boromir states, having caught on.

Suddenly Legolas turns on his heels towards them, his eyes wide in alarm. "Crebain from Dunland!" he reveals once his eyes are able to distinct the birds from one another and recognizing them for what they are; spies.

The next few moment pass like a blur. They quickly erase all signs of their presence before hiding under rock and into the few bushes available. The birds circle over their camping ground for a moment before passing, their figures growing more distant which each passing second.

Gandalf frowns heavily as they emerge from their hiding places. "Spies of Saruman. The passage south is being watched." he concludes, making Frodo look up at him in worry. "We must take the Pass of Caradhras." Gandalf tells the company reluctantly.

Ithilae glances up at the white-coated mountains. The weather up there is treacherous. Even she has reservations on going up there. How will the others even cope?

Luck seems to be on their side though. Over the next days they have already traveled quite a bit up the trail and the sun is still shining. The snow is packed thick and quite easy to set foot on for now. Nobody dares to comment though in fear of jinxing it.

Merry and Pippin flank the elleth, spouting out all sorts of things that come to their minds. They seem to want to share every story they can think of with her, even though she doesn't ask for it. But the hesitant look of interest in her eyes keeps them going.

"And that is how my second cousin from my mother's side got himself a Dwarven friend." Merry concludes another one of his stories. He sighs after a moment after gathering his breath, "All this talking of Hobbits reminds me of home." He looks down, caught in a short moment of homesickness.

He suddenly looks back up again, tossing the feeling aside. "Where did you grow up if I may ask m'lady?" he wonders.

Ithilae glances down to see two pairs of curiosity-filled eyed looking up at her expectantly. She cannot refuse to answer for some reason.

"I spend my early years in Lórien." she reveals, making them quirk their brows at the unfamiliar name and silently urging them to tell them more about it. She decides to indulge them.

"It is also referred to as the 'Golden Woods'. The name derives from the golden leaves of the Mallorn trees, the tallest of trees. The river Celebrant flows through it, glittering like starlight. In its center lies Caras Caldhon. It is where the most of the Elves reside. They live in the trees, among their silver branches." she explains.

"It sounds wonderful." Pippin pipes up, making Ithilae's lips quirk up, but only slightly.

"It is." she states, almost dreamily as she can clearly remember how the bark of the trees themselves appear to glow in the night, ever lighting the way of those still wandering outside. She doesn't notice Legolas' curious glance.

She is pulled away from her thoughts when a thump sounds behind them. Looking over her shoulder, she sees that Frodo has slipped on the snow, Aragorn already by his side to help him back on his feet.

It is then that Frodo pats his chest frantically, seemingly to have lost something. What it is becomes clear when Boromir bends down, picking up the silver chain that is run through the One Ring.

Boromir dangles the wretched thing in front of his face, his eyes focused on it intently.

"Boromir!" Aragorn calls.

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing, such a little thing." Boromir muses as he raises his other hand to touch it.

"Boromir!" Aragorn calls again, more urgently. It seems to do the trick and snaps Boromir out of his reverie. "Give the Ring to Frodo." Aragorn urges, his hand resting inconspicuously on his sword.

Gathering himself, Boromir steps up to Frodo, returning the Ring to him. "As you wish! I care not." he says casually before ruffling Frodo's hair and turning on his heels. Aragorn eyes him thoughtfully, but releases the grip on his sword.


	7. Chapter 7

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Their luck has run out: The further they travel, the worse the weather seems to grow. The temperature has plummeted and the snow is pelting on them like icicles by the gale-force winds.

The hobbits are pulled against the men, their cloaks drawn tightly against them, but clearly they suffer. They struggle through the snow that is fresh and deep. The only ones that do not seem that much bothered are Ithilae and Legolas. Their steps are light enough to carry them atop the snow.

Their ears are focused on something carried along by the wind; "Cuiva nwalca Carnirasse; nai yarvaxea rasselya!"

"There is a fell voice on the air!" Legolas is the first to point out.

"Someone seems set on working against us!" Ithilae adds, looking to Gandalf who has stopped in his tracks.

"It's Saruman!" His exclamation is followed by thundering crack and they dive aside when snow and rock starts to tumble their way from above.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain! Gandalf! We must turn back!" Aragorn urges, finding the situation too dangerous. However, Gandalf is not willing to give up just yet.

He steps up to the front, holding out his hands and staff, "Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho i 'ruith!" he chants. He is only answered by Sauron, who chants harder.

A streak of lightning snaps against the ridge above them, making it groan before a massive weight of snow comes tumbling down onto the company. For a moment, their vision grows dark.

It takes a moment, but each and every one of them clambers from the snow, now feeling more cold then ever. Boromir turns to the wizard. "We must get off the mountain! Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city!" he urges.

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn rebukes.

"If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it! Let us go through the Mines of Moria!" Gimli calls over the wind.

After a moment of contemplation, Gandalf turns his eyes to Frodo. "Let the Ringbearer decide." he says, putting Frodo on the spot. The poor hobbit looks torn.

"We cannot stay here! This will be the death of the hobbits!" Boromir shouts, looking worriedly over to Merry and Pippin clinging to his side.

"Frodo?" Gandalf questions gently as the hobbit gazes around the scared and cold faces, lingering on Sam's for a moment.

"We will go through the Mines." he finally says through chattering teeth.

Gandalf expression turns even more grim than before. "So be it." And thus begins their journey back down the mountain. It is by no means an easy way towards the entrance of the Mines, but most of them were relieved when the winds finally dropped and the snow lessened.

They follow the path until they reach a vast wall. Two trees stand guard in front of it, while a lake darker than any they've seen before lies before it.

"Ah! The walls of Moria!" Gimli exclaim in content. "Dwarf doors are invisible when closed." he explains for whomever wishes to hear.

"Yes Gimli! Their own masters cannot find them, if their secrets are forgotten!" Gandalf says from the front.

Legolas can't help but release a light snort. "Why doesn't that surprise me!" he insults, earning a glare from the dwarf. Ithilae gives a roll of her eyes, finding the jabs the two of them have been giving each other frequently quite petty.

Gandalf comes to a standstill between the two trees, resting his hand on the stone and wiping some of the dirt from it. "Ah... now let me see... Ithildin. It mirrors only starlight…and moonlight." he explains, his gaze turning skyward.

The hobbits can't help but throw a glance at Ithilae at the familiarity of the name when suddenly the clouds part and the moon shines it light down upon the wall. The door to Moria reveals itself. Ithilae herself takes a short moment to marvel at her grandfather's work.

Gandalf points at the writing that has appeared above with his staff, following the lettering, "It reads 'The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria, Speak Friend and Enter'." he says.

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry wonders.

"Oh it's quite simple. If you are a friend, you speak the password and the doors will open." Gandalf states confidently before turning back to the doors, holding out his hands and staff.

Ithilae opens her mouth to interrupt, but Gandalf leaves her no time to do so. "Annon Edhellen, edro hi ammen! ( _Gate of the Elves, open now for me!)_ " he chants.

Gandalf looks confused when nothing happens and once again Ithilae opens her mouth to speak. "Ga-…" She gets no further because the wizard starts chanting once again.

"Nothing's happening." Pippin states the obvious.

"I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves, Men and Orcs." Gandalf muses.

"What're you going to do then?" Pippin asks foolishly.

"You shou-…" Ithilae starts, before once again being interrupted by the wizard. She throws her hands up in despair.

"Knock your head against these doors Peregrin Took! And if that does not shatter them and I'm allowed a little peace from foolish questions I will try to find the opening words." Gandalf scolds the young hobbit before giving another fruitless shot.

Ithilae shares a look with her grandfather who has appeared beside her. "Just say the word." he urges her, but she merely waves him off. If Gandalf is being daft on purpose, she will not aid him. He can simmer on the riddle a while longer, at least until he either figures it out or she grows too impatient to wait. She settles against the wall, crossing her arms.

She glances towards Aragorn and Sam who relieve the pony that has been vigilantly crossing the land with them of his burdens. "The Mines are no place for a pony even one so brave as Bill." Aragorn tells Sam, who looks quite saddened to part with the animal.

"Bye Bill." Sam says sadly, patting the pony one last time.

"Don't worry Sam. He knows the way home." Aragorn assures him after urging the pony on, leaving it to trot away.

Ithilae's thoughts run to Randir. She can't help but miss her steed. Instead of leaving him in Imladris, she set him loose. He can take care of himself and they have the cunning ability to find each other again. She is sure that somewhere along the journey they will cross paths again.

A splash makes her snap out of her thoughts and her eyes flit towards Merry and Pippin who are tossing stones into the lake. Her back goes rigid. There are terrible things lurking in the deep, so she heard from stories. It's best not to disturb them.

She is on them in a split second, fetching Pippin's wrist before he throws in another stone. "Do not disturb the water, unless you wish to find out what lurks underneath its surface." she warns, feeling the hobbit shiver as he gulps, now gazing at the dark waters.

"It's a riddle!" comes Frodo's exclamation all of a sudden. He has been pondering on the gates and he does love to challenge his mind.

"Speak friend... and enter. What's the elvish word for friend?" he asks Gandalf, who looks to the hobbit with raised brows.

"Mellon." he speaks in reply.

A crack sounds as the doors of Moria part to reveal its mysteries. Everyone rises to their feet, following Gandalf inside as he leads the way.

"Come Ithilae!" Aragorn calls, waiting by the door, making her snap her gaze from the rippling water and hurriedly enters behind them.


	8. Chapter 8

Her grandfather told her many stories about the Mines, mainly about the dwarves that resided there and the great halls in the time where he traded with them.

Eregion, where he resided, where he made his home, was not that for from the Mines of Moria and the two cities leaned heavily on each other for trade. But that was all in a different age, when Elves and Dwarves were still civil towards each other.

Stepping inside, it is nothing like she imagined it though. It is so dark, like light never existed. And it's damp and cold. It holds no feeling of welcome.

"Soon master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves. Roaring fires! Malt Beer! Red Meat off the bone!" she can hear Gimli tell Legolas. "This my friend is the home of my cousin Balin and they call it a mine! A mine!" he says indignantly.

"This isn't a mine, it's a tomb." Boromir gasps as Gandalf lights up the path ahead. Dwarven skeletons are littering the ground, pierced with arrows. Everyone is horrified with what they see.

"Nooo!" Gimli moans, shocked to see his kin like this.

Legolas pulls an arrow from one of the corpses, his face scrunching up with distaste. "Goblins." he spits. And as if in unison, they all pull out their weapons.

"We make for the gap of Rohan! We should never have come here." Boromir states and all seem to agree to leave the death trap before them. "Now get out of here! Get out!" he urges, causing them all to back out.

A sudden tug on Ithilae's sleeve makes her whip around just in time to see Frodo fall. Her hand automatically goes to clasp around his, but he slips from her grasp as he is literally dragged out of the Mines by a disgusting tentacle. Its source sprouts from the lake.

"Strider!" calls Sam as his master is dragged further away. He cuts at the tentacle like a maniac, freeing him. Merry and Pippin quickly take this chance to drag Frodo away from it.

The single cut tentacle withdraws, only to be replaced with many more. They come at them from all sides, but their main focus seems to be Frodo for some reason.

Ithilae jumps in the way of them as they reach for him, cutting at them as they try to get past her. That is until one comes swing towards her heard, catching her in the midriff and tossing her away. She just barely manages to flip herself so she can use the momentum to roll back on her feet instead of smacking against the stone, though she is left winded for a moment.

When she's up, she sees that the creature has gotten a hold of Frodo once more and is dangling him above the water where its body finally emerges. Its giant maw is opening up to swallow the scared hobbit whole.

As Legolas fires at it from a distance, Boromir and Aragorn cooperate to free Frodo. Boromir catches him after Aragorn cuts the tentacle holding him and they rush back to the mines on Gandalf's insistence.

Ithilae runs after the rest of the group, hacking through one tentacle that tries to stop her in her path before rushing passed Legolas who holds the creature at bay before everyone is back inside.

The enraged creature crawls from the water, dead set on getting to them. It slams into the posts of the entrance, making them crack. Its tentacles force more pressure on them and finally the stone gives way, crumbling.

They have gotten away from it, but sadly it has shut them inside the Mines, the very place they wanted to avoid just a moment earlier.

Gandalf lights his staff again, casting a pale light onto the grim faces of the fellowship. "We now have but one choice, we must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard, there are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world." he warns as he turns on his heel and sets off up a staircase.

"Quietly now, its a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed." he says over his shoulder as they all file behind him.

Ithilae rubs her midriff absentmindedly as she follows behind the wizard. The blow that creature delivered her has left a dull pain on her muscles and ribs. She is sure it left a bruise.

"Are you alright?" Legolas suddenly asks from behind her, making her drop her hand at her side.

"I'll be fine." she states simply.

She can hear him sigh audibly. "That is not quite what I asked."

"There is no need to concern yourself over me." she follows up. "Does that satisfy your qualms?"

He says no more for the moment as he merely shakes his head behind her. Aragorn lightly pats him on the shoulder as he identifies the light frustration in his friend. He's had dealings with the elleth before and can relate.

Meanwhile, Ithilae can just feel the disapproving vibes from her grandfather for not being more courteous towards the Prince. But she cannot care for the matter.

They pass though many passages, take many staircases and cross just as many bridges. There seems to come no end to it.

"The wealth of Moria is not in gold, or jewels, but Mithril." Gandalf explains as they reach a deep cavern. The walls are lines with silvery veins that shimmer in the light of his staff. "Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave him." he tells them, revering to the elderly hobbit that resided in Rivendell before their departure; Frodo's adoptive uncle.

"Ah, that was a Kingly gift." Gimli states, very impressed.

Gandalf hums in agreement. "Yes. I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of The Shire!" he explains, making Frodo look astounded before readjusting his shirt. He catches Ithilae's eye as he does so and he's sure she noticed, but is relieved when she only quirks her brow in amusement before turning away without a word.

She then quickly snaps her hand out as Pippin slips on the stairs, nearly falling down the deep pit dug next to them. Shaking, he latches onto the back of her tunic for the rest of the way down the stairs.

They continue to travel, day and night blending into each other, until they reach a junction. Three doorways are set before them. Gandalf glances around, puzzlement clear on his face. "I've no memory of this place." he mutters to himself.

"Are we lost?" Pippin asks bluntly, which Merry quickly denies. "I think we are." Pippin states.

"Ssh! Gandalf's thinking." Sam berates them. But it is true; they are lost. None of them know the way from here, not even Celebrimbor. Things have changed too much from the time he had visited.

Gandalf sits himself down, needing time to contemplate and they all take this cue to have a rest. It seems they will not be going anywhere anytime soon.


	9. Chapter 9

"That wretched creature is here." Ithilae breathes, hearing Gandalf and Frodo speak quietly of him: Gollum, or Sméagol as he was once called.

Celebrimbor nods beside her, pacing up and down the corridor she holed herself up in. "It is only to be expected. He's quite smart. I'm not surprised he's caught the trail." he says.

They've had dealings with him before, some years ago. Having possessed the Ring for as long as he had, he was quite aware of Celebrimbor when they crossed paths. He knew who the elf was and followed them for some time, until he was sure they didn't have what he was looking for. He's more trouble than he's worth.

"Rhaich! _(curses!)_." Ithilae spits before turning her eyes on her grandfather. "Will you stop going back and forth? Your restlessness is getting on my nerves." she complains. "And here I was believing you were the level-headed one of us…" she mutters.

"It's dangerous here. Dwell here too long and you'll find yourself overrun. I can sense the presence of a great host." he warns.

Ithilae glances towards Gandalf. "Well, it is not really up to me."

Celebrimbor goes to speak up, but is interrupted by Frodo's voice drifting towards them, "I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened." he tells Gandalf sadly, making the elf stop his pacing and cast his eyes to the ground.

Ithilae knows it origins from guilt. They've had the conversation many times over; the One Ring should have never been made. And despite the endless arguments they've had, she always insisted that its existence is not his fault. Sauron's deceiving ways had him not catch on to his plans.

"So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, in which case you also were meant to have it and that is an encouraging thought." Gandalf reassures the hobbit.

The old wizard surely has a way with words. He can be aggravating, but when it comes down to it, he often knows just the thing to say. But how she does pity the hobbit for his faith.

Gandalf perks up suddenly, "Oh! Its that way!" he exclaims.

"He's remembered!" Merry states gleefully, jumping to his feet excitedly. He's always had full faith in the wizard.

"No, but the air doesn't smell so foul down here. If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose." he explains.

Ithilae rises to her feet with a heavy sigh and joins the rest of the group after one final glance at her grandfather who disappears from her sight soon after. They continue their travels.

"Whom were you talking to earlier?" Legolas questions her as he falls back to join her at the end of the line. She frowns a little, but is not surprised he heard her speaking. Elven ears are sharp after all.

"Did you not know this place is haunted? I was speaking to a ghost of course." she jests half-heartedly. After all, there lies truth in that.

"And what would a ghost have to say my lady?" Boromir cuts in. He is walking in front of them and couldn't help overhear them talking.

They are surprised when her lips turn upwards just slightly, a breath puffing from her delicate nose that make her appear amused. "Why, to worry themselves to death of course." she tells them.

Boromir can't help but snort in laughter while Legolas puts a hand to his mouth, turning his head away to hide his amusement.

Aragorn pauses, having looked back at hearing them converse. "Your sense of humor never ceases to amaze me." he says, shaking his head.

Ithilae looks at him pointedly. "Yours isn't much better." she bites back. She met him first in his teen years where he was getting into all sorts of mischief, though no doubt spurred on by Arwen's brothers.

He shakes his head and turns back to the front, and so does Boromir after a final curious glance. Only Legolas seems to turn to his thoughts, although pleasantly surprised to get more than a sentence out of the elleth, he still feels unsatisfied with her answer. He decides to let the subject go for now tough, knowing he will not receive a proper answer now.

Soon they emerge from a passageway and into a great cavern. "Let me risk a little more light" Gandalf says, letting his staff shine brighter. It illuminates the area and the company gazes at their surroundings in amazement. Vast pillar as far as the eyes can see, rise up to great heights. "Behold the great realm and dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf."

"There's an eye-opener and no mistake." Sam says breathlessly.

Suddenly, Gimli spots something to their right and dashes off towards it with a cry. He runs of despite Gandalf calling for him and they have no choice but to follow.

They soon find him, on his knee in front of a tomb. He looks to be in agony as he sobs in sorrow.

"Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria." Gandalf reads from the tomb. "He is dead then. It's as I feared." he sighs, taking of his hat.

Boromir puts a hand to Gimli's shoulder as he continues to sob while Gandalf reaches for a book, caught in the grip of a skeleton. He opens it and reads, "They have taken the Bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums. Drums in the deep. We cannot get out."

The others look around nervously as he continues, "A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. They are coming." he finishes.

There is a tense silence that follows, but a racket suddenly interrupts it. They whip their gazes towards where Pippin stands. The skeleton resting on the edge of the well has fallen in and is dragging a thick chain and bucket with it. The noise is deafening to the ears of Ithilae, who winces.

The noise continues to echo though the Mines for a while, and with each thump, Pippin cringes, knowing he is the cause of it.

When the noise ebbs away, Ithilae along with others holds her breath. When silence ensues, she releases her breath, her nerves feeling shot.

Gandalf closes the book with a slam. "Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time, and rid us of your stupidity!" he scolds, taking back his staff and hat from the hobbit who he gave to hold. Pippin looks decidedly guilty.

A low thump in the deep suddenly alerts them. Another one follows, seemingly coming from the well, but as the noise continues, it spreads. It's the sound of drums…


	10. Chapter 10

**Another update this weekend! I have a fair bit written down, so I can indulge you guys a little. Have fun!**

* * *

"Frodo!" Sam calls, noticing the glow of Sting, Frodo's sword. It's a telltale sign that that danger is approaching.

"Orcs!" Legolas calls in alarm as the drumming stops and the noise of screeches reaches his ears.

Boromir joins Ithilae, who stood by herself near the doorway. She quickly tugs him back as an arrow comes flying at his head. Their eyes widen at the Orcs rushing towards them, followed by a Troll. "They have a Cave Troll!" Boromir calls to alert the others.

They each take hold of a door, pulling it close and with Aragorn's help; they barricade themselves inside the room. "Get back! And stay close to Gandalf." he tells the hobbits.

They step back, preparing themselves for a fight as the enemy slams into the doors. They start hacking away at it and it is only a matter of time before it is breached. Ithilae points an arrow towards the widening gaps.

Gimli jumps on top of his cousin's tomb, wielding his axe, a look of furious determination in his eyes. "Agh! Let them come There's one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath."

The holes that are starting to grow in the doors reveal the writhing Orcs on the other side and Ithilae, Legolas and Aragorn start shooting. They can hear the screeches on the other side, but the Orcs do not relent. The door comes down under the strain and the vile creatures do not waste time to rush in.

Exchanging her bow for her sword, Ithilae fluidly slashes at the Orcs, cutting them down one by one. It appears as if that is all she has been doing all her life…

Sam, who also fights along with everyone else, brave hobbit he is, pauses at the sight of the troll entering the chamber. It rises up far beyond his tiny figure, even though he is tall for a Hobbit. The broken chain around the troll's neck clatters noisily as it moves.

Legolas is the first to shoot at as it roars terrifyingly, landing an arrow in its chest. Although it pains the creature, it does little to stop it for it skin is thick.

The troll goes for Sam, but he makes his escape by dashing through its legs. As it goes to follow the hobbit, Aragorn and Boromir hang on to the chain, stopping it in its tracks.

The troll turns to them angered and grips his chain. Boromir is too late in releasing it and as it swipes the chain from the, he is flung to the far end wall, leaving him dazed. Ithilae is quick to cover the man as the orcs try to take this opportunity.

"I do suppose I'm glad for you having my back. This is twice you saved me from harm now." he states after recovering and retrieving his sword from the ground before fighting alongside her. The elleth is too busy to comment though.

Meanwhile, Legolas left another few arrows in the troll before Orcs storm at him. This gives the troll a chance to go after the hobbits, minus Sam who has exchanged his sword for a frying pan and is whacking Orc skull with it.

Aragorn tries to rush towards Frodo as he gets separated from Merry and Pippin, the troll having him in his sight. But as he goes to interrupt the troll, he is merely swiped aside by one of its thick arms, knocking him into a pillar and rendering him unconscious.

Having seen this and aware of the peril Frodo is in, Ithilae breaks away from the orcs, or at least tries to. They insist in getting in her way. Angered, she feels her grandfathers presence more strongly and with him lending her strength, she hacks away at them like they are weeds.

"No!" she calls in shock as the troll jabs a spear in Frodo's direction, seemingly piercing his heart. The troll then lets the hobbit drop face first onto the dusty floor. She is too late!

Enraged, Merry and Pippin jump on the troll's back, stabbing their little swords into it while Sam, Gandalf and Boromir fight their way over to the fallen hobbit.

Gimli swipes his axe at the troll from the ground, stepping back as it tries to stomp on him. He rushes towards Merry as the hobbit is thrown of its back.

Seeing an opportunity, Legolas arms himself with his bow once more and fires an arrow into the roof of the mouth of the troll, burying the tip in its brain. It stumbles in effect before falling down, dead. Pippin rolls off of it and onto the ground as it does.

Cutting off the head of the last Orc, Ithilae rushes towards the people now gathering around Frodo, dread in her eyes. Aragorn too crawls towards him, just having awakened enough to do so.

He flips the hobbit onto his back and is surprised to see Frodo still breathing. Frodo coughs and opens his eyes, wincing at the movement. "I'm alright. I'm not hurt." he assures them, as they look at him in relief.

"You should be dead. That spear would have skewered a wild boar." Aragorn says in amazement.

Gandalf eyes Frodo knowingly. "I think there's more to this hobbit than meets the eye." he states, to which Frodo parts his shirt to reveal the Mithril vest below it.

Gimli's eyes widen in awe. "Mithril! You are full of surprises Master Baggins!" he exclaims happily.

Although relieved, they have no time to celebrate as new screeches of Orcs echo throughout the caves. "To the Bridge of Khazad-dûm!" he urges.

Gathering to their feet, they all rush out the chamber and through the fast halls of Dwarrowdelf. Sadly they do not get far before being surrounded from every direction. They turn, back to back to face the creature leering at them. With bated breath they away the onslaught.

A sudden roar interrupts the silence, drawing their and their enemy's attention towards one end of the halls. There in the distance, an orange light is cast upon the pillars.

Another roar sounds, rattling their bones and scaring the orcs. They squeal loudly as they flee before silence falls again upon them, now alone in the vast halls. The light draws closer.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir questions in a whisper, his eyes set on the approaching light.

Gandalf closes his eyes, dread clinging to his heart. "A Balrog, a demon of the ancient world." he conveys as he opens his eyes. The others look frightened at the revelation. He turns to the company, "This foe is beyond any of you. Run!"

They obey his orders, finding this balrog on their trail. They come across a doorway and Boromir is the first one out, only to be met with his doom as he nearly tumbles down the vast hollow below. Luckily Legolas is quick to pull him back.

"Gandalf!" Aragorn calls as the wizard behind them hesitates.

Gandalf turns a stern gaze towards the man, "Lead them on Aragorn. The Bridge is near!" he tells him, motioning to the narrow bridge within their sight. "Do as I say! Swords are of no more use here." Gandalf urges, stepping past Aragorn who looks worriedly at the wizard.

They rush down the staircase that lies beside the doorway until they reach a gap. Legolas is the first to cross with Ithilae right behind him. Putting her behind him, he holds out his hands, urging Gandalf to jump across. He hesitates a moment before doing so after the balrog roars again, causing part of the roof to come tumbling down and dragging part of the stairway behind them with it into darkness.

Arrows start to whiz past them, nearly hitting them while Legolas continues to help the others across. So to cover their retreat, Ithilae takes her bow and begins assaulting the offending orcs with her own.

More of the stairway starts to crumble and the base starts to crack and sway dangerously, catching Aragorn and Frodo off guard. They nearly fall, as they are the last ones to jump.

Steering the swaying stairs with their body weight towards the other end, it slams into it before crumbling completely, but not before the both of them have jumped to safety.

"Over the Bridge! Fly!" Gandalf calls as they make it to the end of the staircase and into another room facing the bridge. Flames are licking towards them from several directions, telling them the balrog is near.

Gandalf is the last to follow after them, pausing for a moment when the creature jumps from below and faces Gandalf with a mighty roar. The heat of its breath is felt on their backs.

Following after the others who have now reached the other side, Gandalf stop halfway the bridge to face the balrog head on. "You cannot pass!" he shouts at the creature, sword in one hand and staff in the other.

Hearing his voice, the other members of the company turn to look back at him in horror. The cold air of the outside world is felt as it streams through the pathway behind them.

Ithilae smacks away an oncoming arrow with her bow as they stand to watch what will come of this. Her heart starts to constrict for some reason. She never was quite amused with the wizard's jests and comments, but she cannot help but worry as the balrog rears up, spreading his flaming wings.

"I am the Servant of the Secret Fire! Wielder of the Flame of Anor!" Gandalf announces towards the dark creature. "The dark fire will not avail you, Flame of Ûdon!"

Angered, the balrog brings his flaming sword down towards Gandalf, who parries it with his staff, letting a crack like lightning ring through the caves. It causes the balrog to drop its sword into the chasm below. It roars again angrily.

Gandalf does not relent. "Go back to the shadow!" he calls as the balrog summons a whip and sets a step forward threateningly.

Gandalf raises his staff and sword together, "You shall not pass!" he shouts before letting his staff come down on the bridge, causing it to crack. It collapses and the balrog goes down with it, its flames going down with it.

Gandalf grunts tiredly before turning his back. He looks relieved. Though the look turns into shock as the balrog's whip snap up at him from below, catching his ankle and throwing him off the bridge.

His staff and sword fall down while he barely hangs onto the edge. He looks at the tense faces that watch him with something akin to acceptation in his eyes and they suddenly realize that he is already gone.

"Gandalf!" Frodo shouts, going to rush towards him, only to be held back.

Gandalf presents them a final look, "Fly you fools!" he shouts before his fingers slip.

Ithilae's breath hitches as he is lost from her sight and Frodo's calls fill her ears. She barely registers a hand clamping on her upper arm until cold air hits her face and daylight makes her eyes squint.

Legolas stands solemnly beside her as the company pours out their grief at the loss of Gandalf.

"This is not right…" she breathes, her eyes still wide in shock as she raises a hesitant hand to her temple. How can someone as Gandalf part from them? He is the foundation of their fellowship. He used to be so strong, appear almost immortal in her eyes.

She nearly chokes as a single sob tries to bash its way out of her throat when she realizes that she feels she misses Gandalf. She forces it down, but the rasping noise that accompanies makes Legolas glance at her in concern, his own eyes filled with sorrow.

She turns away from him, not wanting anyone to see her like this. When did she start to care for the wizard?


	11. Chapter 11

Aragorn has them continue their travels quickly. Night is approaching and with it comes more peril. He makes them run, right towards the fast woods that lie ahead: Lothlorien.

The hobbits stick close by Ithilae, knowing they are approaching her home and the lightness in her step makes it easier for them to set aside their sorrow for a moment as they flee from the oncoming darkness towards the safety of the woods. They quickly rush across the last open field before the shadows of the trees submerge them.

They slow down their pace to a walk, their feet crunching the dry leaves and distance themselves from the border. The atmosphere is rather tense. Even Ithilae feels slightly uncomfortable. Weariness seems to have grown over the forest since she last came here.

Gimli beckons the hobbits closer. "Stay close young hobbits. They say there's a great sorceress that lives in these woods; an Elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell… and are never seen again." he warns.

Boromir throws Ithilae a meaningful glance, slightly humorous. She raises a brow in reply, recalling what he once questioned her to be. It was all rather silly now that they think back on it. Somewhere along the way they have reached an understanding and have forgiven each other.

Her silent conversation with the man is interrupted when a voice calls to her in her head, _"Iston i nîf gîn. Gi nathlam hí. (I know your face. You are welcome here)."_

"Well! Here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily! I have the eyes of a hawk, and ears of a fox!" Gimli exclaims, only to be met with an arrow pointing at his face. "Oh."

Legolas strings his own arrow as they are now surrounded, but Ithilae doesn't bother as a familiar Elf steps forward. "The dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark." he states.

"Haldir." she breathes, making him nod at her, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Gi suilon, Ithilae. Tolo ar nin _(I greet you. Come with me)_. " he orders, turning around as the elves put away their bows. Legolas puts his away hesitantly, looking to Ithilae questioningly as she follows after Haldir.

Pippin looks around confused before being the first to follow, Aragorn right behind him. Soon they all file after the elves.

"Where are we going?" Pippin doesn't hesitate to ask.

Haldir glances at him over his shoulder. "For shelter." he merely answers, guiding them towards a place near the borders and up to a flet on a Mallorn tree, a post for guarding.

Darkness has fallen and Haldir turns to the weary travelers, greeting Legolas next, "Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion _(Welcome Legolas, son of Thranduil)_." He bows his head slightly towards the Prince.

Legolas returns the gesture. "Govannas vn gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien _(Our Fellowship stands in your debt, Haldir of Lórien)._ "

Next, Haldir turns to Aragorn, "A, Aragorn in Dûnedain istannen le amen _(Oh, Aragorn of the Dûnedain, you are known to us)._ "

"Haldir." Aragorn greets with a respectful bow.

Gimli huffs. "So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves! Speak words we can also understand!" he complains gruffly.

Haldir eyes him scathingly. "We have not had dealings with the Dwarves, since the dark days." he tells Gimli with a raised brow.

Gimli huffs once more indignantly. "And do you know what this Dwarf says to that? Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul _(I spit upon your grave)_!" she cusses, causing Aragorn to smack his shoulder in reprimand.

"That was not so courteous!" he scolds.

Haldir turns to gaze upon the dark-haired hobbit standing behind them. "You bring great evil with you. You can go no further!" he says resolutely.

Ithilae looks to him with hard eyes. "Haldir, a word my friend." she urges, putting a hand to his shoulder and taking him aside. He lets her do so willingly and Aragorn and Legolas share a glance before turning away, letting their companion speak with the Marchwarden. Though Legolas keeps a keen ear trained on their conversation, curious to where it will lead, or so he tells himself. The familiarity between the two elves has piqued his interest for some reason.

"Haldir, I ask you to let us pass through the woods. Andelu i ven _(The road is fell!)_!" she asks of him to which he shakes his head.

"I cannot allow such an evil to pass by our inner borders Ithilae. Surely you must understand. It could bring great peril upon our people." he replies in a hushed tone.

"Peril is already upon you and all folk of Middle-Earth." she counters with conviction. "Aid us and let us cut short the time for us to fight back." she tries to convince him.

Haldir still looks upon her with hesitance. "My friend. How long have you known me? This is our last stand. Can you not see that I speak the truth? We need your help to see this through. There is no other way. Outside the woods lies only our doom." Ithilae whispers hurriedly, stepping closer to the elf.

Haldir sighs in reply, closing his eyes for a moment as he thinks. Finally he opens them and raises a hand to rest it on the elleth's shoulder. "I shall bring you before the Lady." he tells her, pausing. "You always had strength in persuasion, even when we were the mere height of saplings." he tells her, ending with a smile.

She returns the gesture in kind, surprising those watching them talk from the corner of their eyes. They have never seen her smile as such.

"Le fael mellon _(Thank you my friend)._ " she says, gripping his opposite shoulder for a moment before they release each other.

Haldir steps away, turning to Frodo. "You will follow me."

Frodo looks to Ithilae, his eyes questioning if it is all right. She nods in confirmation and they once again are on the move.

They travel through the night, mostly in silence; for their hearts are still heavy and they bodies weary. When morning comes, they reach an opening in the woods, overlooking the tallest of Mallorn trees further ahead.

They gaze upon them in wonder. "Caras Galadon. The heart of Elvendom on Earth. This is the city of Galadhrim where dwell the Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of Light." Haldir explains.

By the time they reach that inner sanctum, the skies turn dark again. Many fires light their way and, as Ithilae spoke of before, the very bark seems to shine with a pale light, similar of that of the moon.

They climb a long and winding staircase up the tallest tree of them all, until Haldir halts them before a magnificent structure.

Only moments later, the Lord and Lady of the land appear, stepping down the steps to meet them. The Lady's magnificent beauty seems to take their breath away.

Lord Celeborn turns his gaze to Aragorn. "The enemy knows you have entered here. What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Nine there are here, yet ten there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him. I can no longer see him from afar."

Lady Galadriel lets her eyes cross over the company to meet Frodo's pained ones. Seeking the truth in them. "Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land. He has fallen into Shadow." she speaks, her voice like a whisper in the wind.

Legolas speaks up then, "He was taken by both Shadow and flame: A Balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria." he says before casting his eyes down in grief.

Celeborn takes on a look of surprise, but Galadriel assures them, "Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. We do not yet know his full purpose."

She takes a moment to survey the down cast look before her, before turning to Gimli. He has taken things hard, as he found he lost many of his kin. "Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart Gimli, son of Glóin. For the world has grown full of peril, and in all lands, love is now mingled with grief." she comforts him, making him gaze upon her with awe.

Her eyes then dwell to Boromir in all their intensity until he seems to snap. He starts to sob softly, turning away.

"What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost." Celeborn states.

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all... Yet hope remains while the company is true." Galadriel tells them, smiling lightly down on Sam who looks up shyly.

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight you will sleep in peace." she assures them.

Haldir motions for the to follow him and one by one they take off down the steps again. Ithilae takes a final look over her shoulder, finding eyes on her. _"We will meet in the morn. For now, rest."_


	12. Chapter 12

**Enjoy this part, although it's not very long.**

 **Go out and enjoy the nice weather afterwards, wherever you are.**

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The company finds themselves in cleaned clothes soon after meeting with the Lady and Lord. They have been given a place to rest between the sturdy roots of the Mallorn trees. Before them lies a fountain to provide them with cold water, that trickles gently, soothing them. Gimli is quick to nod off, curled up with some blankets.

They are silent, mostly too tired to strike up conversation, or not able to find the words. Only once the elves up above start the sing a haunting song, does Legolas comment, "A lament for Gandalf..." He turns his blue eyes to the branches above, taking in the words.

His curiosity piqued, Merry asks, "What do they say about him?"

"I have not the heart to tell you. For me, the grief is still too near." is his reply.

Ithilae sighs lightly, glancing towards Frodo who is staring ahead blankly. He hasn't spoken a word as of yet. She cannot help but worry for him.

"I bet they don't mention his fireworks. There should be a verse about them." Sam speaks up, making Pippin nod in agreement.

Sam gets to his feet, the words pouring from his mouth, " _The finest rockets ever seen. They burst in stars of blue and green. Or after thunder, silver showers. Come falling like a rain of flowers._ " he finishes with a sigh. "Oh, that doesn't do them justice by a long road." he says disappointingly.

"I've never seen them, but it sounds wonderful." Ithilae muses, watching Aragorn move away towards Boromir who has secluded himself. Odd, normally she is the one to do so, but here she is in the middle of company, seeking and passing on comfort.

Sam can't help but give a small smile of appreciation before returning to his task of sorting his things out.

They fall back into silence, comfortable to everyone except Ithilae. Something has started to bother her. Excusing herself, she makes her way to a clearing on the edge of the citadel, where she knows few ever come. The only sound present is the rustling of leaves in the nightly breeze and the light trickle of water in the distance.

"Grandfather, you have been rather absent lately." she says to the quiet air around her.

It takes a moment before he finally he appears before her. He looks back at her solemnly. "I thought you would enjoy the respite." he says rather bitingly, making her raise a brow. She has seldom seen him act as such.

"You should not take Lord Celeborn's words to heart. Although your friend is very wise, he has never been quite the optimist." Ithilae tells him, making him chuckle.

"Nay, he has not been indeed." he agrees before eying his daughter's only child. "I never imagined to hear words of comfort to come from your mouth." he states.

She raises a brow in jest. "Never say never; I may yet surprise you."

"Indeed." he muses. "Nevertheless, without Gandalf's aid, the chances of successfully destroying the Ring have diminished greatly. What is it you plan to do if you are yet hopeful?" he questions.

Ithilae reverts her gaze towards the canopy above. "Ú-iston _(I don't know_ )." she admits. "This was never supposed to be easy. I wonder if it has use to even try and fight an uphill battle. Perhaps it is better to sometimes let the stream of fate carry you along until you reach new footing. I don't know; it is just a feeling I have…" she explains.

Celebrimbor gazes at her for a moment, deep in thought. He then speaks, "You remind me of your grandmother when you speak as such. You have grown much as of late. Perhaps, despite the hardships, this journey has done you good."

"It has been that wizard rubbing off on me, I'm certain." she states off-handedly before heaving a sigh.

"What is on your mind?" Celebrimbor questions the elleth as she sits down to rest against the roots of a tree.

She hums before answering, "I'd like to feel glad for being home, and I do feel lighter, but I cannot help but let it be stained with pity for those who are so far from theirs." she tells him.

"There is no need for pity. We all know what we set out for." a voice interrupts, making her whip her head to find Legolas standing at the edge of the clearing.

He steps closer. "I believed you to have gone and find your kin, though here you are speaking to yourself again." he states, a light smile on his lips, though his eyes full of guarded curiosity. "Am I to be worried?" he asks.

"What is it you seek so far from the company, Legolas Greenleaf?" she counters with a question of her own, wondering what he is doing there of all places.

Instead of being taken aback, his smile widens. "I am merely enjoying my time here. Your home is indeed one of unparalleled beauty." he answers casually. "Now what are you doing here by yourself when you could enjoy the company of your kin? Are you not lonely?" he questions, his smile faltering.

She assesses him for a moment before answering, "I am never alone, even if I so wish it." she states dryly. His eyes widen slightly as he takes this as her dismissing him instead of speaking the blatant truth.

"I see. I beg your pardon for intruding my lady." he apologizes, the merriment in his eyes gone. Before she can say anything, he has left her.

Ithilae can't help but sigh in frustration. "That elf…"

"You cannot blame him when your wording was very unfortunate. He only tries to seek a way to approach you. You have been traveling together for some time now, with him being the closest kinship you have with you aside from myself. Yet you insist on excluding yourself." Celebrimbor tells her.

"You should make an effort on your part. With Gandalf gone, they will have to learn to rely on you more if you continue to set out for Mordor. You know the way to the Black gates." he reminds her, making her frown. She does know indeed. She has seen them with her own eyes.

"You too need to learn to rely on them more if you are to make it there alive. The path has surely grown more perilous. It is time you open up more to those having your back. The Prince would be a good person to start with." he urges as she remains silent.

Finally she scoffs, but her adversity to the idea seems to waver. "Hobbits are much easier creatures." she says before rising to her feet, setting off to find the offended Prince. Celebrimbor smiles before disappearing again, now satisfied. He doesn't believe he's had such a proper conversation with her for many a year.


	13. Chapter 13

The elf Ithilae seeks seems to have misplaced himself for the moment, or is eluding her. In his stead she runs into a hobbit. The direction Frodo came from leaves little to guess for her.

"You have looked into the mirror." she states as he gazes up at her, his eyes wide. She wonders what he has seen, though she may guess.

He nods, hesitating before speaking, "I was advised to speak with you." he tells her, making her raise a brow before nodding, knowing what it must be about.

"I understand. Follow me and I tell you what you wish to know." she says, motioning him to walk with her.

After a moment, they reach a quiet path and although Frodo appears slightly tense, he does not back away from finding out what he wishes to know. "The One Ring… You know it well I was told. The Lady Galadriel, she told me your fate was bound to it. What does she mean by that?" he questions, making her halt.

She turns to him, not standing to near to make him too uncomfortable as she prepares to tell him. If the Lady wishes for her to share this with the hobbit, she must know it will help him somehow. And that is what Ithilae is there for she considers.

"Long ago in another age, this Ring was created by Sauron, who called himself Annatar at the time, to hold the power to dominate the other rings created. The Nine Rings of Men and The Seven Rings of the Dwarves were already forged by him… and my grandfather." she reveals, making his eyes widen.

"Sauron deceived him to make them alongside him, because my grandfather was known to be a great smith, just like his ancestors before him. But while making them he incorporated this binding magic on them. He was not present however when my grandfather forged The Three Rings of the Elves, one which you must have seen on the Lady Galadriel herself."

"When Sauron made his betrayal clear, my grandfather tried to hide the Rings from him. He sent them away. His daughter, my mother has brought Nenya to this forest herself."

"After fighting to safe his city, though in vain, my grandfather was captured. Sauron tortured him into giving away the locations of the Rings. He found all, safe for The Three Rings of the Elves. Unspoiled by Sauron they remained. After that, he killed my grandfather." she explains.

Frodo looks up at her wide-eyed, drinking in the information given to him. "There is more… isn't there?" he wonders after a moment.

Ithilae nods in confirmation. "My grandfather never got to leave for the undying lands, not after the way he was betrayed and the way his life was ended. Also, the One Ring still remains and as long as it does, his guilt keeps him bound to it and to myself. I will not be able to lead a life for myself as long as it is not destroyed. I will always have him with me." she finishes explaining in a solemn voice.

Frodo looks to her for another long moment in silence before realization dawns on him. "I thought I could sense something different about you from the moment we met; a presence as ancient as the Lady of the Woods herself I now realize. Your grandfather really is still here…" he speaks, though mostly to himself.

"Can he hear me? Can he see me?" he asks.

Ithilae nods. "You can see him as well, if he so wishes, or if you put on the Ring, although I do not recommend that."

The hobbit looks to be in wonder. "Is it possible I meet him? I do not wish to push, but he is someone so close to the origins of the Ring, I feel as if it would help me greatly."

"I suppose that is the Lady's intend." Celebrimbor speaks as he appears before Frodo, who takes a step back in fright. It is no wonder; Celebrimbor very much resemble the wraiths that are hunting the hobbit.

"I am Celebrimbor and I commend you for your bravery Halfling. Though I feel saddened to see you burdened with a disaster that I failed to prevent from being made. If I had the ability, I would cast it into Mount Doom myself." he says, getting on one knee before the hobbit.

Frodo smiles sadly, feeling no danger coming from the wraith before him. "I'm not that brave as I appear to you I'm afraid. I'm so very frightened by what is yet to come." he admits, looking down shamefully.

Celebrimbor nods sympathetically. "If you were not afraid, I would have called you a fool. But you are not alone." he assures Frodo.

Frodo looks up after a moment, question in his gaze as his eyes fall on Ithilae. "I have been wondering, ever since the council, why you did not take it upon yourself to take the Ring…"

She understands what he means as she recalls how she held the Ring with her grandfather's aid.

"It is because I too am afraid, more than I have cared to admit to anyone, even myself. I fear to fall under its spell and do Sauron's bidding, the one I hate so much. It would ruin me if I ever find myself doing anything that works to his hand." she tells him, a frown etched upon her brow. "The thought alone makes me feel sick."

Frodo too frowns; uncertain now that he learned that one of the people he has come to look up to holds such deep-rooted fears. It is like one by one; the pillars of his foundation are being pulled from underneath him.

"I will be honest with you Frodo; I never did used to have much regard for Halflings and I did ask for the Ring to be taken from you before it was too late to do so. I did not believe that you could play part in its destruction… But, although I'm not sure if you should be happy with it, I have changed my opinion on you. You are strong and if anyone can see it done, I believe it to be you." she says with conviction.

Frodo lowers his gaze in humility. The weight of her words press heavily on him, and yes, he is not happy with the compliment. He wished for her to take the wretched thing away from her, that is, until he could not find himself being able to part from it. When he offered it to Galadriel and she rejected it, it was the last effort he could bare.

"I am very sorry Frodo, that I could not aid you like you wished me to. And I apologize that you have to face so much peril because of it." Ithilae says, squatting down before Frodo and taking his hands in hers.

Frodo shakes his head, smiling sadly again. "I only hope that I can meet the expectations set upon me."

Ithilae and Celebrimbor say no more. Ithilae only leans in to place a kiss on his forehead to convey her grief for him before ushering him to return to the company with her and sleep.

* * *

 **Finally some more background on Ithilae. Let me know what you think.**


	14. Chapter 14

Legolas wanders through the woods, still rather put off by Ithilae's behavior. After all this time traveling together and all the peril they faced, why will she still not give him the light of day? Even she and Boromir get along better despite their argument on the first day they met.

He finds himself in a clearing with ahead the stables that hold the few horses these lands may hold. To his surprise, he finds Haldir standing in the enclosure before him.

Legolas has half the thought to turn around and leave, but as he spots the horse that the other elf is petting he cannot help but ask, "Is that not Randir, Ithilae's horse? Or are my eyes deceiving me?" he questions.

Haldir turns to him, a smile on his usually straight face. "Indeed it is. He was found wandering the pastures at the border by our scouts."

"Does she know he's here yet?" Legolas wonders.

Haldir shakes his head. "No, but perhaps you would have the honors?" Haldir suggests.

Legolas looks to him surprised. "Would you not like to tell her yourself? I believed you to be close friends?" he asks carefully, making the Marchwarden chuckle.

"I would, but I cannot find the time. Orcs are near and I would like to stop them from entering the woods." he explains.

Legolas sighs wistfully. "In that case I would gladly convey the message, if she would only allow me to speak with her."

Haldir raises a brow at the Prince. "Ah, she's being difficult is she? I would not weigh her behavior too heavy on your heart if I were you." he advises.

"I beg your pardon, but that is easy for you to say. She seems to have a liking towards you at least." Legolas counters as he starts to pet Randir absentmindedly.

Haldir looks to him as if trying to read him, before smirking lightly. "I see you have taken an strong interest in the moon." he states, startling Legolas at his underhanded way of suggesting him having more than a casual interest in the elleth.

Of course he holds an interest of some kind. Who wouldn't? She is a strong and confident elleth, who proves to be compassionate when she must. He's never seen anyone fight quite like her. And her whole being is clouded in mystery… Beside that, she looks most appeasing, but that is a whole different matter!

He tries to shrug casually, but it comes off rather stiffly. "I might. But her walls are impenetrable. I find I cannot draw closer." he says uncertainly, not knowing if Haldir is the right person to speak to when it concerns Ithilae.

Haldir's piercing gaze holds him for a moment longer, before looking away with a knowing smile. "Perhaps…" he says cryptically. "I have known her since she was a mere babe. I saw her grow up." he reveals, catching Legolas' interest.

"She has always been a bit different from other Elves, but not always so angry." he adds.

"How so? What happened?" Legolas can't help but ask.

Haldir pauses in thought before answering, "I cannot tell you all of it. It is not up to me to say…" he starts, reminding Legolas of what Aragorn said to him in Rivendell. "But a heavy burden has been laid on her shoulders once her mother left for the undying lands when she was still young. It has caused her many grievances." he explains.

Legolas has a feeling that it has to do with her determination in their cause to destroy the One Ring. That explains something about the root of her anger, but…

"You mentioned she is different?" he asks, causing Haldir to nod.

"She has the blood in her of a Noldor Elf." he reveals, making Legolas' eyes widen. "She is the last known in line from the House of Fëanor."

"How is that possible?" Legolas asks in wonder. "I believed the last of them to have passed before even my birth?"

Haldir shakes his head. "Nay. There was a child; Ithilae's mother who came from Eregion to these woods. When she reached maturity, she married one of us and Ithilae came not soon after." he explains.

Legolas finds himself with more questions and since Haldir is willing to share… "Who was her mother?" he asks.

Haldir thinks for a moment. "Her name was changed after she came here, to hide her origins from any wanting her harm, but I believe Ithilae once told me she was called Amaniel, or something like that. It was long ago, so forgive me if I do not recall correctly." he apologizes.

Legolas looks thoughtful, but shakes his head after a moment. "That does not sound familiar."

Haldir smiles. "I suppose not. Her name has been lost in history. Her father however is known throughout Middle-Earth." he tells Legolas. "Though that is all I will tell you, for fear of damaging Ithilae's trust. That, and I will have to part soon."

Legolas nods. "Thank you, for telling me as much." he says sincerely.

Haldir waves it off. "Do not mention it. I mean it, don't. I just hope it has given you enough incentive to not give up on her just yet. I may have the advantage of knowing her for as long as I do, but towards me, she can be just as stubborn. She needs more friends in her life; ones who will not shy away when they find out her story. I believe you to be a candidate." he says, surprising Legolas once more.

"How can you be so sure?" he asks, making Haldir chuckle. He does not receive an answer however.

"Mauya nin avánië. Namárië! _(I must go. Be well)._ " he calls over his shoulder.

Legolas watches him leave before turning to go back to join the company. Morning is already near at hand. Perhaps he will announce Randir's arrival to Ithilae himself after all. And while his mind is still on the strange conversation he just had with the Marchwarden, he feels lighter as he returns.

When he reaches the encampment, the elleth is not there however. Aragorn must have caught him looking rather disappointed, because he addresses the elf, "She has just left to speak with the Lady Galadriel. Prestad Legolas _(Is there trouble)_?" he questions in Elvish so as not to alert the others.

He receives a shake of the head in response. "All is well."


	15. Chapter 15

"I apologize, for being so brazen the day before." Ithilae tells Legolas as she faces Randir. The horse nips at her fingers, glad to be reunited with his mistress for now.

He shakes his head, the memory of her smile the moment she saw her steed still fresh in his mind. "There is no need to do so. I caught you at a bad time." He pauses before uttering his own apology. "I am sorry if I push you for answers that you not wish to share. It is not my place to do so."

She glances back at him, appearing a bit surprised. "I-… Thank you." she tells him appreciatively. "I know how it appears, but I have good reason for not being very…open, so to speak." she says quietly.

He nods in understanding. "I do not doubt that you do… I only hope you learn to put your trust in me one day." he says, watching her as she stares into the distance over Randir's head.

"I hope so as well Legolas." she finally says.

After a moment of silence, he smiles. "You have a remarkable horse, to have traveled all this way to be his master." he compliments, making her nod.

"Indeed he is. He is almost like a hound. I am pretty certain that when we leave here, he will set out again as well, only to meet him again later. He just has his ways of finding me each time." she explains before turning to him.

"I have spoken with Lady Galadriel. In two days time, she will see us off from the shores of the Silverlode. She will provide us with boats so we may avoid the Orcs that have come to seek us out. Haldir and the others will have created a perimeter to depart from safely by then." she explains, making him nod.

"That is well. If we sail as far as the Falls of Rauros, that will leave us at the border of Gondor and close to Mordor. Only… how will we cover the distance from there?" he wonders.

Ithilae narrows her eyes in thought. She knows the way to the gates, true. But she does not know the way in. The gates are not the way.

The days pass by quickly and the company is somewhat feeling refreshed after the much-needed rest they have been allowed in safety. But now it is time for them to part.

A layer of mist lies upon the banks of the Silverlode as the sun tries hard to break through. The air is slightly chilly yet, but it brings great promise of a fine day. The company is eager to set off.

Each member of the company is adorned with a cloak, fastened by a broach, typical in the style of the Elves of Lothlorien. The cloth feels familiar to Ithilae.

"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people." Celeborn states as he stands before them. "May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."

With a final gesture of farewell, they step into the boats. Ithilae aids Sam as he wobbles on his feet before Aragorn steps in with a nimble leap, setting the hobbit down before helping Frodo settle in as well.

Satisfied that they are seated, she looks over to see that Boromir, Merry and Pippin are already settled in the second boat. That leaves her to take a place among Legolas and Gimli whom still have room available.

As Legolas pushes to boat away from the shore and falls in line with the other two, Ithilae's eyes fall to the Lady of the Woods as she stands on the shore, her hand stretched out in farewell. And it really seems like it is the final farewell, concerning the words they've exchanged earlier;

 _"_ _I feel proud, that you have chosen to follow this path, for I know it has not been an easy choice to make. Even now you keep making choices that are laying down the foundation that makes your future, solidifying it." Galadriel says in a breathy voice._

 _Ithilae gazes at the fountain before them, taking in her words. "What kind of future will that be?" she questions._

 _Galadriel's rosy lips quirk upwards, her eyes sparkling. "That is for time to tell you, for I do not have that answer. However, I feel like it will be one that you can accept without regrets." she reveals._

 _That is all very vague, Ithilae believes. She can come to accept many things if she has to. Even death._

 _"_ _I can tell you one thing for certain…" Galadriel starts, catching Ithilae's attention. "However your future will play itself out, it does not lie here." she tells the younger elleth._

 _"_ _How so? Is this not still home?" she asks, a little worried._

 _Galadriel turns to her, gazing at her with a warmth in her eyes. "Should you return here, you will not find us. We shall go West, The Golden Woods shall be empty before long." she explains, making Ithilae's eyes widen._

 _Galadriel's smile only grows. "Do not despair by our leave. Everything will fall into place before journey's end. But should you come to long for the old days… I have for you this…" she says, holding out her hand._

 _Ithilae holds out her hand and looks in surprise at what the Lady lays to rest in it. "This is a seed of a Mallorn tree, one of the very few given to me by Gil-Galad. Once planted, it will make a healthy tree. Its branches will color golden for many generations."_

 _Ithilae gazes at the nut, caught in a net of silver thread, ready to rest on her chest until she decides to do away its holdings and lay it in the soil._

She puts her hand to the necklace, feeling life's energy bottled up within the silver shell.

She glances at Legolas, who is still smiling after receiving a Galadhrim bow. She learned a while ago how passionate he is when it comes to the use of a bow. She doubts any other gift would have made him happier.

Her eyes then fall upon Gimli, who looks to be caught in thoughts of his own. "I have taken my worst wound at this parting having looked my last upon that which is fairest. Henceforth I will call nothing fair unless it be her gift to me." he sighs suddenly.

"What did the Lady Galadriel present you Gimli?" Ithilae can't help but ask, curious now that Gimli hasn't said one single bad word about her since he laid eyes upon the Lady's beauty.

Gimli's eyes fill with emotion. "I asked her for one hair from her golden head. She gave me three!" he exclaims in pure bliss. Ithilae purses her lips, looking down to hide the smile battling up her lips, while Legolas just widens his own in amusement.

There is not much talk to be found on their boat for a while after that. With Aragorn, all is pretty silent as well. Only Merry, Pippin and Boromir seem to chatter among themselves. Boromir doesn't appear to be feeling as downfallen as he was in the woods.

They continue to sail down the Anduin in an apparent peaceful manner and the high green-topped hills mellow down as they sail further South and trees grow further apart and turn brown of leaf.

Ithilae catches Legolas eyeing the riverbanks frequently and she understands why. There is something approaching, a darkness that makes her spine tingle uncomfortably. The others seem quite unaware of the fact, blissfully so. It will not be long until evil will let itself know.


	16. Chapter 16

When night draws upon them, they bank their boats at a suitable spot along the river. Sam is quick to build a fire and Legolas sets off to hunt their meal. Ithilae finds herself gathering wood with Boromir's help.

Boromir curses silently as he has done already for many times since they have set out into the woods. She halts, looking back at him amused. "Stubbed your toe again?" she questions with an arched eyebrow.

He sighs before catching up to her. "Yes, yes. You go ahead and laugh at my woes. Curse your Elf eyesight. The night is too dark for a simple man such as myself." he tells her playfully.

She shakes her head at him before picking up some more dry twigs and branches until she believes they have enough. They return to the camp slowly, this time Ithilae warning him in time before he stumbles over another root.

"You seem to have lightened up since we have left the woods…" Ithilae tries to strike up conversation, remembering her grandfather's words. She must learn to get to know them better so a bond of trust will form, crucial for the continuation of their journey.

"Aye." he breathes. "I apologize for saying this, since I know it is your home, but those woods were suffocating me." he admits.

She nods. "I do not hold it against you."

"Anyway, now that we are drawing closer to Gondor, I can feel my heart filling with renewed strength. I long to gaze upon the White city, my home. I just hope that we will, for I am not certain I can persuade Aragorn to take that route." he says, sighing again as his expression turns from exhilaration to dismay.

Ithilae casts her eyes to the floor in thought. Indeed that will prove difficult. Aragorn does not hold much trust in Frodo or the Ring's safety should they go there.

"Well, enough about me." Boromir states, looking to her. "Tell me, now that I have found a rare opportunity to speak with you, how are you faring now that you have left your home once more? Did you not hesitate, even for a moment to leave it behind?" he questions.

Ithilae hesitates for a moment before answering, noting that she finds it surprisingly easy to converse her thoughts to the man. "Perhaps for a fleeting moment. But there are more important matters at hand to keep me from staying." she says, fingering the Mallorn nut hanging from her neck.

"What is that?" Boromir asks, his eyes falling on her preoccupied hand.

She holds it up for him to see better. "A nut from the Mallorn tree. A piece of home for me to apparently put somewhere I see fit. It should grow to great heights with the passing of ages, to bring comforting shade for the generations too come." she explains.

Boromir looks thoughtful for a moment, his face falling once more. "What generations do you suppose will be there to behold it? With things proceeding as they are… There might be none to appreciate it."

Before she can say anything to his bitter words, they have reached the camp, making her part from the downcast man. She wishes she could give an assurance of some sort, but she knows she can't.

The next morning they set off again along the river. The air is thick today. Frodo hasn't been quite himself, refusing to eat and it worries Sam more than any.

Also, Ithilae heard Boromir and Aragorn's falling out. She feels sorry for the man to be honest. He only wants what is best for his people, even though he has a tendency to go the wrong way about it. But, she can't help but silently side with Aragorn on not going to Minas Thirith. It will only cause them trouble she believes.

The broad river narrows slightly as they cross into Gondor. The great statues of the kings, the Argonath flank the river, signaling their entry. They tower above the company, leaving them momentarily breathless before they slowly pass out of sight again behind them.

The mood has not improved much among them however when they finally halt the boats again before second nightfall. They pull up their boats on the shore of Nen Hithoel, the sun bearing down on them.

Ithilae stares at the woods in front of them with trepidation. She doesn't care for how these trees seem to loom threateningly and how the shadows dance around as if mocking her.

"We cross the lake at nightfall, hide the boats and continue on foot ... we approach Mordor from the North." she hears Aragorn say from behind her.

Gimli scoffs gruffly. "Oh, yes, just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil, an impassable labyrinth of razor-sharp rocks. And after that, it gets even better ... a festering, stinking marshland as far as the eye can see." he states, lighting his pipe.

The hobbits look at him with worry, making Aragorn glower at him. "That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf." he suggests with a raised brow.

"Recover my..." Gimli start indignantly, almost choking on the smoke from his pipe.

Legolas leans over Aragorn's shoulder, speaking hurriedly, "We should leave now." he urges. He catches Ithilae's eyes as she looks back at them over her shoulder.

"No. Orcs patrol the eastern shore. We must wait for cover of darkness." Aragorn tells him.

Legolas' eyes narrow, looking decidedly uncomfortable with the setting. "It is not the Eastern shore that worries me." he tells his friend, glancing around warily, making Ithilae turn her eyes to the forest once more. "A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. Something draws near, I can feel it." he explains, making Aragorn look at him knowingly, but there is nowhere they can go at this very moment, not without being noticed.

The roar of the waterfall Rauros sounds in the background. Ithilae can't find rest like the others, so she opts for scouting the woods, seeking for a sign that their enemy is close at hand. The woods are awfully quiet though, too quiet. Not even a bird chirps and the air feels thick with dread.

Not feeling right, she turns to return to the encampment, only to pause when a voice catches her attention. It's Boromir's. Another joins him; Frodo, she identifies. Automatically she takes off in their direction.

Her pace quickens when Boromir's voice grows louder. She arrives at the foot of the outlook of Amon Hen to find them in caught in a scuffle; Boromir's eyes are like one of a madman as he tries to pry the One Ring from Frodo.

"No! Boromir!" Ithilae shouts, rushing forward just as Frodo slips on the Ring, disappearing from sight.

Frodo crawls away, glancing back to see the elleth ram her shoulder into the man, knocking him to the ground. Looking up he catches Celebrimbor's eye. "Go! Quickly little hobbit!" he urges. He doesn't need to be told twice, hurrying away to hide.

Ithilae socks her fist against Boromir's temple, making him stop struggling beneath her. He seems to snap out of his madness, looking up at her wide-eyed. "W-What have I done?" he croaks, staggering to his feet as Ithilae jumps off of him.

"Frodo! I'm sorry!" he sniffles sadly, looking around for the hobbit before the elleth stops him from wandering.

"You cannot go near him anymore Boromir." she tells him, her voice chiding. She watches as the weight of his actions come down upon the man. "Come!" she orders, taking him by the arm and dragging him in the opposite direction of where Frodo must have left.


	17. Chapter 17

Ithilae silently stands there, waiting for Boromir to cease crying. He sits on a fallen tree, his head in his hands. She does not need to tell him how wrong it was for him to do what he did. He sees that very clearly himself.

Finally he quiets down and wipes at his face, hiding the traces of his despair. "What follows?" he asks, not looking the elleth in the eye. He has come to regard her as something close to a friend and he feels he has let her down.

Ithilae sighs, shifting on her feet. "There is only one thing you can do Boromir… Retrieve your things… Go home." she tells him curtly. There is no other option but for him to leave.

Boromir runs a hand through his blonde tresses, before finally nodding. "Alright." he sighs sadly, raising to his feet slowly and straightening himself. He mentally prepares himself to face the judgmental looks of those occupying the camp.

"When your journey is over…" he starts hesitantly. "Will you not come and visit the city? I'd… I'd hate to think that this is the last we see of each other." he says solemnly.

Ithilae nods after a moment of thought, her expression rather blank. Boromir nods silently in gratitude before slowly setting off down the slope, the elleth close behind.

She suddenly freezes; making the man glance back at her is question. "What is it you hear?" he asks worriedly, seeing her face twist darkly.

"Fighting." she states before setting off in a run, Boromir close behind.

What greets their sight is unfamiliar to them. Their enemy resembles something close to that of an Orc, but taller and stronger looking. A white hand is painted on their faces. But no matter what they are, they are about to cut down Merry and Pippin.

The two jump in, blocking the swinging swords with their own, fighting them off and cutting them down when they can, but there are so many; too many for the both of them.

Boromir steps back, rising his horn to his lips and blows hard, making its sound echo through the forest. It's his call for aid and hopefully they will receive some soon before they are overcome.

"Merry! Pippin!" Ithilae shouts, snapping the wavering hobbits out of their stupor. They scuttle away, ducking down behind a tree trunk when more of those overgrown Orcs approach from the other side. They find themselves trapped.

Boromir looks back at them. "Run! Run!" he urges, knowing they are likely to get killed if they stay any longer.

He gasps when an arrow suddenly runs him through. "Boromir!" Ithilae cries out, darting towards him, only to have her path blocked. She quickly cuts those down that hold her back, but she does not reach Boromir in time before another arrow hits him dead on. To her amazement, he keeps getting up and continues fighting.

Her eyes fall on the horrid creature that shot her unlikely friend. She releases an angered yell, rushing towards him as he strings another arrow onto his bow. She does not reach him however, as a thick arm swipes her across the chest, knocking her off her feet.

She quickly blocks a blow with her sword, grimacing when she finds an ugly face hovering above her with a cruel smirk.

Gritting her teeth, she rolls halfway to her side, letting her opponent's sword slam into the soil beside her before rolling back and thrusting out her hand, clasping the side of its face. The effect is instant…

A wispy cloud seems to pour from its very pores as its eyes widen in horror. "Show me your mind!" she shouts in a twisted voice as the wretched creature's thoughts and memories fill her head; Uruk-Hai…Saruman…Hobbit…Elf woman!

The creature drops on top of her motionlessly, dead. She throws it off before jumping to her feet and rushing over towards Merry and Pippin who are being snuck up on from behind. Their eyes widen even more as they watch her approach before waving wildly at her to move.

She glances to the side, wondering what they are gesturing about, only to be hit it the temple by the butt of a blade. Her vision swims as she staggers from the blow. She can hear Boromir cry out in pain and her eyes fleet unsteadily towards him, finding him on his knees.

She cannot find her way to him or to the hobbits though as another blow hits the back of her head. She crashes face first into the dirt.

Boromir watches from his peripheral as an Uruk pick up her limp figure and follows after the two that have snatched the two hobbits. He reaches out an unsteady hand, unable to shout after them.

Movement across from him gathers his attention and he looks up to face his doom. The Uruk-Hai points another arrow at him, ready to shoot him point blank.

Boromir gazes up at him defiantly, but is ready to welcome death. His body can take no more…

Before the final blow strikes however, a cry rings through the clearing, followed by the furious figure of Aragorn.

…

"Merry! Merry!" Pippin whispers harshly, only to receive a groan from his best friend. There is a nasty cut on his forehead.

Glancing the other way, he looks to Ithilae who is hanging over the shoulder of an Uruk. She threatened to wake a few times, but was knocked out cold again when it came to their notice.

They all seem very reluctant to be the one to carry her as they take turns. Somehow they fear her and that is probably reasonable. Pippin isn't sure what he saw her do, but it certainly wasn't normal.

Suddenly the bouncing stops, signaling they have come to a stop. They have come across a band of Orcs.

"You're late. Our master grows impatient. He wants the Shire-rats now." one Orc hisses at the tallest Uruk.

He is greeted with a growl. "I don't take orders from Orc-maggots. Saruman will have his prize. We will deliver them." he states.

Pippin casts another glance to Merry worriedly, seeing a film of sweat form on his forehead. He looks to the uruk carrying Merry as he is drinking eagerly from a flask and speaks up boldly, "My friend is sick. He needs water. Please!" he begs.

The Uruk smirks cruelly. "Sick, is he? Give him some medicine, boys!" he calls before a flask is roughly shoved in his mouth. The dark liquid spills everywhere.

Merry sputters awake, looking around in fear. The Uruks laugh at his expense. "Can't take his draught!"

"Stop it! Leave him alone!" Pippin shouts.

"Why? You want some?" the uruk from before questions threateningly, causing him to shake his head. "Then keep your mouth shut."

Once their attention is off of them, Pippin turns to his friend. "Merry." he breathes, looking him over worriedly.

"Hello, Pip." he answers in a drawl, looking up feebly.

Pippin frowns. "You're hurt." he states.

Merry waves off his concern. "I'm fine. lt was just an act." he assures Pippin, who looks at him in surprise. "See? I fooled you too. Don't worry about me, Pippin." Merry states, although the other hobbit has a hard time buying it.

"What did they do to Ithilae?" Merry wonders with a frown, seeing her motionless on Pippin's other side.

"They keep her knocked out. They're scared of her." Pippin explains before looking up as he hears a growl.

One of the Uruks sniffs the air. "What is it? What do you smell?" another Uruk questions.

"Man-flesh." the uruk answers.

"They've picked up our trail. Lets move!" the ringleader calls, putting an end to their rest.

Knowing their friends are now coming for them, Pippin makes sure no one is looking. He pulls the Lothlorien broche from his cloak with his teeth before spitting it out. It falls to the ground before being stepped upon by an unknowing Uruk.

The little broche sits there in the soil long after the band of Uruks have passed, waiting to be discovered.


	18. Chapter 18

"We're not going no further... until we've had a breather." an Orc huffs and puffs after the hobbits and elleth are thrown to the floor. They are all very tired after another long day of running.

The leading Uruk snarls, before giving in. "Get a fire going!" he orders.

Pippin immediately crawls towards his friend. "Merry! Merry!"

Merry groans. "I think we might have made a mistake leaving the Shire, Pippin." he says, his cut stinging on his forehead.

A load groan catches their attention. They look towards the woods wide-eyed. "What's making that noise?"

"Trees… It's the trees." a voice whispers breathlessly, making them turn to Ithilae is surprise.

"You're awake!" Merry whispers as he crawls closer, followed by Pippin.

"Are you okay Lea?" Pippin questions innocently, making her perk a brow as her eyes crack open just slightly.

Her eyes are unfocused and she pauses for a moment too long for their liking, making them glance at each other worriedly. "My head is throbbing like I got trampled by an Olifaunt." she finally answers.

"Well they did hit you pretty hard." Pippin nods before quickly shielding her from sight when an Uruk passes them. He doesn't want her to receive another blow to the head. That cannot be healthy.

Another groan makes the hobbits startle. "Don't mind it… it is only the trees." the elleth tells them quietly. "You would not be happy… if someone tried to cut you down."

Merry perks up, nudging Pippin. "You remember the Old Forest, on the borders of Buckland? Folk used to say there was something in the water that made the trees grow tall...and come alive."

"Alive?" Pippin breathes.

"Trees that could whisper...talk to each other...even move." Merry finishes. "It's like that, isn't it?" he asks, turning to the elleth, only to see her eyes closed again.

Pippin looks down at her worriedly. "I don't think she's doing so well Merry." he states, his voice a bit shaky.

"No, she's not Pip." Merry agrees, his lips pulling into a thin line.

Before they can fuss over the elleth they befriended some more, the Uruks and Orcs start to stir. "I'm starving. We ain't had nothing but maggoty bread for three stinking days." an Uruk sneers.

"Yeah! Why can't we have some meat?!" an Orc with a nasally voice complains before eying their prisoners. "What about them? They're fresh." he wonders, licking his lips hungrily.

"They are not for eating." the leading Uruk-Hai states, causing a subordinate to pull the prisoners further from the hungry crowd.

"What about their legs? They don't need those." a different Orc says, making the hobbits glance towards their legs worriedly. "They look tasty."

The leader growls. "Get back, scum! The prisoners go to Saruman. Alive and unspoiled."

"Alive? Why alive? Do they give good sport?" the orc from before questions, drawing closer to the hobbits and the elleth.

"They have something. An Elvish weapon. The master wants it for the war." the Uruk states.

Pippin turns to Merry with wide eyes. "They think we have the Ring." he whispers.

"Ssh! As soon as they find out we don't, we're dead." Merry hushes him.

"But what do they want Lea for?" Pippin can't help but wonder, knowing they cannot believe that she has it.

An unsheathing of a blade behind them startles them. "Just a mouthful...a bit of the flank." the orc behind them argues, his mouth watering.

Having had enough of his insubordinates riling against him, the leader whips out his scimitar before swiftly beheading the orc. Its head bounces over the hobbit's head, making them gulp.

The Uruk smirks. "Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!" he calls, instigating an immediate frenzy. Merry and Pippin are knocked back as they fight over the best bits.

"Pippin. Let's go." Merry urges, nodding to the forest.

Pippin looks to Ithilae before crawling towards her swiftly. He pulls at her top by the shoulder, soon aided by Merry on the other side. They try hard to move her, but she hardly budges.

They freeze as a foot steps onto Merry's back and he looks over his shoulder horrified to find an Orc glaring down at him. "Go on. Call for help. Squeal. No one's going to save you now." he says threateningly, reaching out to squeeze into Pippin's cheeks, who looks frightened up at the orc as he raises his knife.

Suddenly a spear hits the orc into its back, piercing all the way through, only missing Pippin by an inch. The orc drops down dead right on top of the elleth. That is when chaos ensues as horsemen charge into the encampment, slaughtering the orcs and uruks.

Merry and Pippin know they have to flee, but they cannot just leave their friend behind. "Come on Ithilae! My lady! Wake up!" Merry calls, shaking the elleth hurriedly.

"Uh?" she breathes before moaning in discomfort at the heavy weight on her. She cannot move. Heck, she cannot even find the strength to open her eyes.

"Go…" she urges weakly. "Run… Do not pause."

Merry squeezes her shoulder, gritting his teeth before nodding reluctantly. "Come on Pip!" he calls, nudging his friend to get him going. He needs some urging to leave the elleth behind. Neither care for it, but it's either make a run for it, or they all die.

Pippin keeps in the tears as they crawl further away. Merry glances back into the chaos one last time. "I'm sorry." he whispers before clawing his way towards the forest.

…

The men pile up the carcasses, stench fills the air as they burn. They killed all of them and so have prevented them to cause more grief among the innocent people of their homeland.

"Help me with this one." a rider urges, picking up another Orc by the shoulders, before staggering at what he sees. "My Lord!" he calls as another soldier goes to see what startled his friend.

A man with a long mane of blonde hair steps towards them, his eyes widening as the two men throw the corpse off of another body, that of a woman. And not just any sort of woman by the looks of it: An Elf maiden.

Éomer quickens his pace, dropping to his knees, his hand hovering over her nose and mouth. "She's still alive! Get some water…and a cloth!" he orders.

Ithilae starts to cough violently as water tickles her throat. "Easy there." a soothing voice hushes as she is propped up. A cold cloth dabs at her face and she manages to crack her eyes open, just enough to see a pair of unfamiliar blue eyes staring down at her.

"You're alright." the man tells her. "Do you understand me?" he questions, not certain if she speaks his tongue. "Can you tell me your name?" he asks.

"I-Ithilae." she rasps. "W-Who…?" she tries to ask, only to have her head swim. She raises a tired limb to clutch at her head, only to have the man halt her movements.

"Careful, you have sustained a head injury. My name is Éomer, we are Rohirrim from Rohan…or at least, we were." he tells her, his voice filled with sorrow.

He aids her in sitting up a bit more, observing her as her eyes flit across the scene before her, worry projecting in them. "What..? Where..?" she stammers, appearing fearful to Éomer. He blames it on whatever experience she has with those wretched creatures. He does not know that she is searching for a sign of the hobbits that were with her earlier.

"Do not fret. They are all dead. You are free now." he assures her, his eyes widening when she tries to pull herself to her feet soon after he finishes speaking. He catches her as her shaking knees can't hold her. She sighs tiredly and closes her eyes.

"You may travel with us Lady Ithilae, for as long as you see fit, or we find a proper place where you can be taken care of." Éomer states before ordering his men to round up their business so they may set off.

Ithilae does not have the strength to argue as she is sat upon a horse with one of the riders. She can only hope that the two hobbits made it out alive before her mind shuts down again, eager to have her recover and relieve her of this weakness that plagues her.


	19. Chapter 19

Aragorn pauses, gazing at the tracks laid out before them, mapping out their direction and speed. His concentration wavers however at the approaching of the clatter of hooves.

The sound grows louder and louder, indicating that it is headed straight in their direction. Uncertain of what will appear over the hill, he urges Legolas and Gimli to take cover behind some stray rocks before ducking into hiding himself.

Before long, a vast host of horsemen appear over the hill, all set into a fast gallop in the direction they have come from; away from Rohan.

It has been days since they abandoned the road into Gondor to follow the host of Uruk's that took part of their company. With barely any rest, they ran from the woods and across barren lands that seemed to go on for eternity. They ended up deep into the heart of Rohan, land of the Horsemasters.

Recognizing them not to be enemies, Aragorn jumps from his hiding place, quickly followed by Legolas and Gimli. "Riders of Rohan...What news from the Mark?!" he galls over the loud clatter and neighing as he watches them rush past.

With a single motion from their leader, they turn, circling the three warriors before closing in their ranks. Spear point threateningly at them, promising death should they step out of line.

Their leader steps forth, eying the strangers before him with stern eyes. "What business does an Elf, a Man and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!" he orders.

"Give me your name, horse-master, and I shall give you mine." Gimli retorts gruffly.

The man steps from his horse, looming over the dwarf threateningly. "I would cut off your head, Dwarf... if it stood but a little higher from the ground." he says lowly.

Faster than lightning, Legolas draws his bow, pointing it at the man before them. "You would die before your stroke fell." he tells him resolutely, causing the spears to shift in his direction.

Aragorn steps in between them quickly, holding Legolas' arm to keep him from acting rashly. He and Gimli have grown quite fond of each other over the time, forming a friendship that has not been heard of for many a generation.

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas of the Woodland Realm. We are friends of Rohan and of Theoden, your king." Aragorn explains hastily before things get out of hand.

The man eyes him for a moment before slowly taking off his helmet. "Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe. Not even his own kin." he tells Aragorn meaningfully, motioning for his men to lower their spears.

"Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king... and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say... as an old man hooded and cloaked. And everywhere, his spies slip past our nets." he tells them the tragic tale before eying them suspiciously.

"Éomer." a voice calls from within his ranks, but it is not from one of his men. He looks back to see Ithilae gazing at him over the shoulder of one of his men. The three warriors startle to see her, Legolas taking a step forward hesitantly.

"These men, they are not your enemy. They are my friends and yours should you let them." she defends them, before trying to dismount the tall horse she is sat upon.

She is feeling much better now that she had some rest, but she is still struggling quite a bit to her dismay. Before she can risk a fall, Legolas is at her side, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her from the horse gently.

"Ithilae…" he breathes in relief. "We were worried for you." he admits readily.

She steadies herself before stepping back, not quite comfortable with being so close to the other Elf. "I'm fine Legolas." she states as Éomer watches the scene, satisfied to know that they are familiar to the elleth.

"Your sword." Aragorn states, stepping forth and holding out her fallen weapon for her to take. She nods in appreciation, unconcerned by the gazes of the men around her that are surprised she is a warrior like them.

"Where are the hobbits lass, were they not with you?" Gimli questions anxiously.

The elleth frowns. "They were, but… I lost track of them I'm afraid. I-… I was not in the best of health." she admits shamefully. She turns her eyes to Éomer. "Did you happen to come across any hobbits where you found me?" she questions.

"They would be small. Only children to your eyes." Aragorn cuts in.

Éomer shakes his head. "When we slaughtered the Uruks, we did not have eye for much else. We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them. We only found your friend by coincidence." he tells Aragorn, motioning towards a cloud of smoke in the distance that surely comes from the still smoldering remains.

"Dead?" Gimli wonders in disbelief.

Legolas casts his eyes downwards in mourning.

Éomer nods with a sigh. "I am sorry." he tells them earnestly. He looks back before whistling. "Hasufel! Arod!" Two horses step forth, no rider upon them for they have perished the night before.

"May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters." he says, gifting them to the weary warriors. Arod immediately nudges Legolas, who lays a hand upon the friendly beast.

He then turns to Ithilae. "I trust I can leave you in their care from here on my lady." he says, having her nod in reply. "Perhaps we meet again in the future, under better circumstances I hope."

"I thank you for your aid, Éomer Horsemaster. I hope you find a place that welcomes you." she tells him, watching him mount his horse.

"So do I. Farewell. Look for your friends. But do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands." he tells them, before they turn away from them, riding off North and leaving the four of them.

Ithilae sighs in dismay, only glancing up to take the bow and quiver from Legolas, who has kept them on him, like Aragorn has done with her sword. "Do not fret. There is no strong evidence that they are gone yet." he assures her, referring to Merry and Pippin.

"I suppose." she breathes before glancing around. Her heart falls when she finds no Boromir close, nor Frodo or Sam.

"Boromir, he…." she starts hesitantly.

Aragorn puts a hand on her shoulder. "He was overcome by his injuries." he tells her, pain in his eyes.

She guessed as much, but it's painful to hear either way. "And Frodo and Sam?" she questions.

"They left us lass. They are now journeying on their own towards the dread of Mordor." Gimli explains, frowning with worry.

Ithilae stares into nothingness for a moment. Taking in these developments. She is saddened, for she did not get to say goodbye. Those hobbits wormed their way into her heart somehow, and not knowing how there are faring, worries her. She would have gone with them. How will they find their way on their own?

"Come Ithilae. Let us focus on searching for Merry and Pippin for now." Aragorn urges gently, knowing she is having a hard time processing all that has happened. Not to mention that she is still not all well, judging from the large bruise on the side of her head.

He guides her towards the brown horse, letting her climb on after him to spare her some dignity, knowing a little of how she is and that is not being keen on showing weakness and having to be treated as such.

Legolas and Gimli mount Arod and the four of them quickly ride off towards the smoke rising to the clear morning sky.


	20. Chapter 20

They reach the to Ithilae familiar sight of the hill before the forest. The trees of Fangorn stretch their shadows towards them as the sun is still rising behind them.

The grass is splattered in dark blood, as Orcs and Uruks alike have been thrown upon a heap, not all of them in one piece and left to smolder on the fire started by the riders of Rohan.

Ithilae does not wish to be left behind and searches along side the others for a clue as to what happened to the two hobbits that were with her before.

Gimli rakes through the corpses with his axe before pulling something from it that looks awfully familiar. "It's one of their wee belts." he states, his voice wavering.

"Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath. _(May they find peace in death)."_ Legolas whispers, his face downcast as he concludes the worst.

Ithilae shakes her head in disbelief as Aragorn kicks an Uruk's cut off head, still lodged in its helmet before unleashing a shout of defeat, falling to his knees. The scream shakes his companies' bones.

Gimli wipes at his eyes. "We failed them." he mutters sadly. Voicing the thought that runs through all of their minds.

Aragorn's eyes roam the stirred ground before them, reading the marks. "A Hobbit lay here. And the other." he pieces together as his fingers trail upon the markings. "They crawled." he adds, seeing the trail continue away from him. He spring to his feet and his companions follow after him.

"Their hands were bound." Aragorn continues retelling the story of that night. He picks up a discarded piece of rope further on ahead. "Their bonds were cut."

His movements are becoming more brisk as he continues. "They ran over here. They were followed." he explains, making Ithilae remembers how eager the Orcs were to get their hands on them.

"Tracks lead away from the battle..." Aragorn says before coming to an abrupt halt. The looming trees of Fangorn form a wall onto his path. "..into Fangorn Forest." he realizes.

Gimli's eyes widen. "Fangorn? What madness drove them in there?"

"Never mind that." Ithilae states, her heartbeat picking up at the glimmer of hope rising to the surface. "They could still be alive!" she calls before dashing into the cover of the trees, startling the men.

Aragorn glances at the other two before shrugging and following after.

"She's mad!" Gimli calls, making Legolas smile lightly before pulling the dwarf with him into the thicket. The sun is soon blocked from their sight by the thick canopy and the wrangled and ashened colored stems.

Gimli soon spots a dark liquid dripping from the leaves of an outstretched branch. He fingers it before laying a finger on his tongue. He grimaces. "Orc blood." he states before spitting out the wretches substance.

Ithilae comes up beside Aragorn who looks intently at the soil before him. "These are strange tracks." he mutters, making her tilt her head a she gazes at them as well. They look familiar.

"These are Ent tracks." Celebrimbor speaks in her mind, reviving an old memory of Ithilae. She has been in the forest before, a long time ago, even for Elvish standards. Maybe that is why she does not felt any trepidation in entering. She knows the trees are not out to harm her if she leaves them be.

She has come across an Ent at that time and it was one of her most memorable meetings. It was also a test to her youthful patience…

Amused at Aragorn's befuddlement on the tracks, she says nothing before continuing on ahead, now able to follow the clear trail of Ent footfalls.

"The air is so close in here." Gimli muses to himself as he eyes every dark corner within his sight. He does not feel comfortable at all.

Legolas nods in understanding, also eying the trees, but more with fascination than anything else. "This forest is old. Very old. Full of memory...and anger." he explains.

A loud groan echoes through the forest, not far off, making Gimli stiffen even further than he was, raising his axe to counter any threat that may come upon them.

"The trees are speaking to each other." Legolas realizes, hearing more creaks and groans follow.

"They are very much aware of our presence." Ithilae tells him. "They are likely trying to tell if we mean them harm." she adds before their eyes simultaneously fall upon Gimli's gleaming axe.

"Gimli! Lower your axe." Aragorn whispers harshly. The dwarf reluctantly and slightly fearfully complies.

Legolas starts to explain, "They have feelings, my friend. The Elves began it. Waking up the trees, teaching them to speak."

Gimli shakes his head cynically in reply. "Talking trees. What do trees have to talk about? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings." he scoffs before following after the others who have started to continue on in a single file, Ithilae at the head.

The sun must be high in the sky, though they can hardly tell before there is any sign of life other than the trees and the four companions.

Legolas suddenly halts before he whispers hurriedly, "Aragorn, nad nâ ennas! _(Something is out there)_."

Said man comes up behind him and they exchange words, making Gimli look quite confused, as he doesn't understand any Elvish. He looks up at a light touch, seeing Ithilae beside him.

"Prepare yourself. Saruman is upon us." she warns, making him grip his axe tighter. She herself has her bow already strung.

The very moment that Aragorn starts to whip around, so do the others, each brandishing their weapon of choice. But their attacks are easily deflected as a brilliant white light blinds them.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young Hobbits." a voice states from its source, making them still squint to see anything.

Aragorn stands fast, though is cautious. "Where are they?" he questions.

The person answers, "They passed this way the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?" they question.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" Aragorn demands.

A moment passes and the person steps forward, the light dimming and they come to face someone they never expected to see again.

…

"One stage of your journey is over. Another begins. We must travel to Edoras with all speed." Gandalf tells them after retelling his story of how he came to return.

"Edoras? That is no short distance!" Gimli remarks with his eyebrows nearly up to his hairline.

Aragorn speaks up as he walks beside the wizard, "We hear of trouble in Rohan. It goes ill with the king."

"He banished his greatest allies." Ithilae adds.

Gandalf nods. "Indeed. His illness will not be easily cured." he explains grimly.

Gimli huffs. "Then we have run all this way for nothing? Are we to leave those poor Hobbits here... in this horrid, dark, dank tree-infested-?" he cuts himself sort at the sound of disapproving groans. "I mean, charming... quite charming forest." he corrects himself quickly.

"It was more than mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn. A great power has been sleeping here for many long years. The coming of Merry and Pippin will be like the falling of small stones... that starts an avalanche in the mountains." Gandalf explains vaguely.

"In one thing you have not changed, dear friend." Aragorn starts, making Gandalf look at him curiously. "You still speak in riddles." he laughs, making the wizard chuckle.

Gandalf gazes into the distance in thought. "A thing is about to happen that has not happened since the Elder Days. The Ents are going to wake up... and find that they are strong."

"Strong?! Oh, that's good." Gimli nods as the trees creak harshly at his tone of disbelief.

Gandalf leads them out of the forest, back to their horses before releasing a loud clear whistle that seems to carry on to great distances. A neigh answers his call and a great pure white steed comes to answer his call, followed by a familiar Palomino steed. Ithilae smiles to see that he has found his way to her once more.

"That is one of the Mearas... unless my eyes are cheated by some spell." Legolas openly gapes at the unfamiliar white steed.

Gandalf strokes the beast as it comes to a stop before him, stroking his mane. "Shadowfax. He is the lord of all horses... and has been my friend through many dangers." Gandalf explains.

"Let us depart for Edoras." he urges, mounting the horse, leaving them to follow his example.

"Ithilae?" Legolas questions, making her glance over to see him looking quite worried. She still looks pretty awful and he is unsure if she will be able to ride such a long way by herself.

"I am fine. The pain has faded." she states, patting Randir lovingly. "And he will not let me fall in any case." she assures him, making him nod in reply.

They kick their horses' flanks gently before setting off after Gandalf who is rushing along like a gust of wind.

* * *

 **I'm officially out of reserves, so I'm not sure I'll be able to update every week any more. It all depends if I have time and if I'm not absorbed with writing on one of my other stories. But hang is there. I'm still keeping this going as best as I can.**


	21. Chapter 21

They have settled for the night as their destination is such a distance away and their company is weary from the events of the past days. They really need a night's rest before setting forth once more.

Ithilae ignores the murmur of Aragorn's and Gandalf's voices, her mind to pre-occupied with other matters. This is the first time she has the chance to come to terms and mull over all that came to be since leaving the safety of her home once more.

Subconsciously, she faces in the direction of the great White city of Gondor. The wind is blowing steadily from that direction and makes her cheeks turn rosy from the chill.

Her heart aches as she realizes she will never have a chance to accompany Boromir there. He will never get to return to his home as he was murdered so cruelly. She regrets losing his friendship so abruptly after it has just started to be. He was a good man in heart.

Losing him and adding that Frodo and Sam have left them has left her stricken. That people would lose their lives while on this journey or that some may part ways is not very surprising. They are on a dangerous mission after all. But it happened just after she decided to open her heart a little for them. It makes her more than a little apprehensive to give more of herself to those remaining than she has done till now.

Behind her, her grandfather stands watching her carefully as she wrings her hands around her bow, looking uncharacteristically unsettled. He knows exactly what is passing trough her mind and can't help but be disappointed and worried. If she starts closing off again, where will she be left after all this?

He looks up from the elleth when the figure of the Mirkwood prince passes him. Luckily the young elf is not easily deterred by Ithilae's standoffish nature, though that may perhaps have to do with something more powerful fueling his persistence and patience.

Celebrimbor has caught up to the rather intense curiosity the elf has towards his granddaughter and his need to stand in a positive light when it comes to her. He cares very much of her opinion on him, in a way that makes Celebrimbor remind him of days when his late wife first caught his eye. But although there are some similarities, Ithilae is by no means her grandmother and will not be swayed by pretty words and attention.

She can be as stubborn as an untamed horse, and just as wild. Having spent so much time on their own, he is surprised she still has any manners at all. After a particular long time away from any civilization, with only Orcs to stumble on their path, he half expected her to hiss and spit before slithering away like a viper at the mere thought of someone trying to converse with her.

It didn't come to that, but he wasn't sure that turning into a block of stone was any better of an alternative. Bless Hobbits though for putting an end to that.

He shakes his head to cast away his musings and glances at the two young elves before disappearing.

"Ithilae…" Legolas starts hesitantly after a moment of heavy silence. He can somehow sense her starting to build up her wall again, one block at the time. He wants to try and stop her from continuing in a manner that will not speed up the process, but their 'friendship' is still quite frail.

"I would like to express my sympathies towards you for the loss of a friend. You and Boromir appeared to be on good terms, it must not have been easy to see him felled. I hope you do not put any blame on yourself, for you have none to carry." he assures her, hoping that is the best way to go about it.

She glances at him as he sits beside her, one knee pulled up to his chest to rest an arm upon it while she dangles her legs freely over the edge of the cliff they are sat upon.

She nods silently in recognition of his sympathies, but a frown mars her face. "Maybe there should not be any guilt carried, but you must admit that my endeavors to protect the members of our company have not been successful either. So I hardly can call it praise worthy either." she states rather bitterly, making him asses her words with concern.

"If that were true, that would count for all of us. None of us has been able to prevent Boromir's death or the capture of the two Halflings and yourself. Nor could we give Frodo the trust he needs in his companions to carry out the mission we set off for. Nay, things have not gone very well as of late." he rebukes.

"So where does that leave us then? Do we blindly continue on struggling to right things that have gone awry? Things that we have not set out to do in the first place?" she asks scathingly.

Legolas merely nods. "If we must. I trust to follow Aragorn and Mithrandir to a point where our need to make a difference is satisfied. If our place is not at Frodo's side, it lies elsewhere, within this company remaining." he speaks wisely, making her gaze at him curiously for a moment and in silence. At least she's not walking away yet.

He continues, hopeful now that he still has her attention. "Call me naïve perhaps, but that is truly what I feel. It do not believe it has nothing to do with blindly following because we have lost all other purpose." he adds, a small smile playing on his lips.

She looks away into the darkness ahead, seeming to consider his words. He seems to be on to something, though she is reluctant to admit it. Honestly, she finds his positive outlook uplifting and admirable. She could use a page out of his book, though she will never say that to his face.

"We'll see." she settles the matter with those two words. "I told myself recently that perhaps that I have come across a moment where I have to go where the current takes me instead of wading upstream. Sadly I have hit a few ragged rocks along the way and I think the shore is too far beneath my feet as of yet. It is proving a bit difficult not to try abandon that mindset and struggle upstream either way." she tells him, impressing him with the amount of words uttered from her. She is usually more curt.

"The river may yet run deep, but there is always a bottom. Time will come where land is steady beneath your feet again. Rivers are not endless." he assures her, hoping to have her carry on a while longer.

"Unless you are dragged out to sea and drown." she states, startling him a little. He looks at her with a frown, but raises a brow when the corner of her lip rises faintly.

"Sorry. I jest." she admits, making him blink, taken aback. "Your positive outlook differs so far from mine. I often see the worst in things and I could not help myself by dramatizing after your uplifting words."

Legolas shakes his head, an airy chuckle escaping his lips. "You frightened me a bit. I worried that your outlook was the future had been shattered completely." he admits.

"How could it with you in this company? With all the right words to say… Are you certain you're a warrior and not a philosopher?" she continues to jest making him laugh fully now.

"I am quite certain. Though it pleases me to know that my words are considered so." he says lightly before turning his gaze upwards as a few thick drops of rain are cast from the sky.

"Let us huddle more closer to the rock side before we add more chill to our bodies by letting ourselves get drenched." Legolas suggests, making Ithilae nod in agreement, following after him.


	22. Chapter 22

A long ride passes before the Golden halls of Meduseld come within their sight. However, a dark shadow seems to be cast upon it. Gandalf explains as they ride to enter the king's seat upon the hill, "Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld. There dwells Théoden, King of Rohan... whose mind is overthrown. Saruman's hold over King Théoden is now very strong. Be careful what you say. Do not look for welcome here." he warns.

Their company rides slowly up to the Golden hall, passing by the people of the city of Edoras. They flee and hide at the sight of them, or simply sneer before turning their backs.

"You'll find more cheer in a graveyard." Gimli mutters from behind Legolas and they can't help but silently agree.

They step down from their horses and approach the final distance to the hall on foot. Before they can enter however, they are held back by several men cloth in armor.

One speaks up, "I cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame. By order of Grima Wormtongue." he says, clearly familiar with the wizard.

Gandalf's eyes seem to hide his thoughts as he overthinks his decision, before finally turning to those accompanying him and nodding to signal his order to disarm themselves.

They reluctantly comply and Ithilae raises a defiant brow as one man takes her weapons from her, eying her in surprise. "Would you like to speak you mind?" she asks, making him quickly shake his head, disturbed by the challenging look in her eyes.

"He he." Gimli chuckles quietly to himself. Amused at the sight. If only these unknowing fools knew that the woman can hold her own like the best of them.

"Your staff." their captain urges to Gandalf, who hasn't relinquished it yet.

Gandalf glances at his staff as if he just remembers it being there. "You would not part an old man from his walking stick?" he tries innocently, smiling in a disarming way as he hunches his back to accentuate his non-existent frailness.

The captain looks hesitant before allowing him to pass. Gandalf takes Legolas' outstretched arm to keep up his act. The other three follow behind them.

Entering the gloomy hall, filled with gloomy men they approach the throne, on which sits the gloomiest of men. The King looks in ill health. His skin pale and shriveled, his face thin and his hair white. Besides him sits a vile looking man, his stringed dark hair framing his face as his dark eyes peer from their sockets with distrust. He whispers words of poison into the Kings ear. Grima would be his name.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late... Theoden King." Gandalf states, his voice echoing through the hall.

The Kings near trembling form turns to face the wizard. "Why should I welcome you... Gandalf Stormcrow?" he croaks before he turns his paled and unfocused eyes to the men beside him.

"A just question, my liege." he agrees before standing up to face the visitors. "Late is the hour... in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Lathspell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest." he sneers.

Gandalf nearly growls at Grima. "Be silent. Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death... to bandy crooked words with a witless worm." he spits, brandishing his staff in anger.

Grima looks shocked. "His staff. I told you to take the wizard's staff!" he calls in panic, and a brawl is quickly to ensue. The warriors hold off the King's men while Gandalf makes for the King himself.

"Théoden son of Thengel... too long have you sat in the Shadows." Gandalf calls as the fighting comes to an end, no one a match for the seasoned fighters. Grima lies below Gimli's axe.

Gandalf raises his hand to Théoden, "Hearken to me! I release you from the spell!" he calls, closing his eyes in concentration.

The King or perhaps the one occupying his mind laughs mockingly at his effort. "You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey." he laughs.

In reaction, Gandalf throws aside his cloak, revealing his stark white robes and pushes back the King with his power. "I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound." he states angrily before thrusting hiss staff forward, pushing the form of the King back even further.

A distressed looking woman rushes forward to aid him, but Aragorn hold her back from doing so, telling her to wait.

"If I go, Théoden dies." a foreign voice speaks from the Kings' mouth. It must be Saruman.

Gandalf looks at him undeterred. "You did not kill me... you will not kill him."

"Rohan is mine!" Saruman shouts in a last ditch effort to keep his control.

"Be gone!" Gandalf calls before Théoden leaps from his throne towards the wizard, only to be whacked by his staff rather unceremoniously. The contact was the last thing needed to dispel the evil-gone wizard from his mind and the King slowly regains his youth and vigor.

The woman from before has shaken Aragorn off and has rushed over. The King reaches up to her face in recognition. "I know your face. Eowyn… Eowyn." he states, making her smile in relieve.

….

It is the next day. Much has come to pass as Grima was cast from the Rohan, nearly killed by his King if it weren't for Aragorn intervening. The King's son has been laid to rest for he passed away from his injuring sustained in battle. And finally, two children from the outer reaches of the lands have arrived, starved and battered from the long ride on horseback in an effort to flee an onslaught of Orcs and Uruk's coming their way.

The matter was discussed as both Gandalf and Aragorn tried to urge the King to fight back, to have Éomer retrieved and have him and his fellow riders return home and fight. Théoden however refused and opts to flee to Helm's deep, a rough battlement set against the steep walls of the mountains, nearly impenetrable.

It is not an option anyone of the company looks forward to, but it seems when one is looked down upon for being a women, it is all the more frustrating.

….

"What is the matter?" Legolas questions as he joins Gimli, while he looks upon the fuming elleth before them, standing before the town's smith with her shoulders squared.

Gimli grunts. "She wishes to sharped her blade. It gained a few notches last fight, however, because she is a woman, they refuse to sharpen her sword. I gather the men here feel very strongly about them having to be proper, child-rearing creatures, rather than warriors." he explains.

"Ai!" Legolas exclaims as he observes Ithilae push past the man and his student and into the workshop. He and Gimli quickly follow as the steaming smithy rushes after her, fearing a fight.

Stepping inside, they watch to their amazement as she unsheathes her blade and tosses it into the already roaring fire, before heating it even further. The smith is too baffled to stop her as she pulls the red glowing blade from the fire and takes the hammer, lifting it above her head before skillfully hammering at the edges to relieve the blade from its imperfections.

The men are caught up in their amazement as they watch her work effortlessly until she appears satisfied. She submerged the blade in water, making steam rise and the water hiss angrily.

Pulling out the blade, it appears brand new and Gimli is then the first to shake out of his stupor.

He rushes forth, holding out his axe and Ithilae smiles confidently before setting to work on it. There is something quite satisfying about proving one's self.

Legolas feels a smile pulling at his mouth as the smith sits himself down in a chair with a heavy sigh, mumbling to himself.

With a chuckle, he leans back to observe the elleth, catching her eye when he does before she returns them to her work. In that moment he could tell that she is in her element as there lay a spark in her eyes that she has not yet graced him to behold before. She looks quite happy and that in turn, makes Legolas' heart feel light.


	23. Chapter 23

**Hello dear readers,**

 **I'm letting you know that I'm putting this story on hold for a bit.**

 **I ran out of steam for this story while others flow out of my brain and into words so smoothly.**

 **Don't be afraid, I still have the intention to continue, but not right now. I'm sorry to disappoint you and leave you waiting though, but please don't give up on me just yet. Just give me a little time.**

 **Thank you!**

 **Love, InariKiri**


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